


In Our Nature

by AppleSeeds



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Co-workers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Nature, Oblivious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Oblivious Crowley (Good Omens), Pining, Slow Burn, There's all this environment happening, When I say slow burn I mean slooooooow, sort of but only perceived enemies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:34:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 48,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27166666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppleSeeds/pseuds/AppleSeeds
Summary: A perfect day in Crowley's dream job as a nature reserve manager stands to be ruined by the arrival of Aziraphale, a representative from the Marketing department at head office, investigating "commercial sponsorship opportunities" for the organisation. After what happened last time someone from Marketing visited, Crowley is prepared to fight to protect his precious reserve from corruption, and decides to show Aziraphale every beautiful aspect of nature he can in an attempt to get him on his side.After several days together, Crowley only realises that Aziraphale isn't the monster he expected him to be when it's almost time for him to leave, and struggles to get him out of his mind after he's gone. But Eric, Crowley's dedicated and perceptive intern, will intervene however necessary to bring the two of them back together, and it just so happens there's a reserve managers' meeting coming up at head office, and Crowley's going to need a place to stay...
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 342
Kudos: 256
Collections: Aziraphale/Crowley Human AUs, Good Omens Human AUs





	1. The Visitor From Head Office

**Author's Note:**

> I promise I am writing a follow-up to (Please Don't) Look Into My Eyes, but after The Ineffable Con and everyone talking about Eric the Disposable Demon as a perpetual intern and how he probably really looks up to Crowley, this just sort of happened! Did someone order some oblivious Crowley?? Thank you to KissMyAsthma for helping me work out the idea for this fic!

“Thanks Eric, you’re a lifesaver,” Crowley mumbled as he reached out and clasped both hands around the metal cup of coffee his intern had poured for him. Eric beamed at him and clutched the thermos full of coffee to his chest.

“Happy to be of service!” Eric announced, much too enthusiastically. He was so energetic, so passionate, so _young_ , but even so, being outrageously chipper at 5.30am was entirely incomprehensible. Crowley simply grunted in response, took a sip of the coffee and then rose from the ground in one fluid motion, brushing some of the loose dirt off his already dirt-encrusted jeans.

It was the beginning of May, but although the days could be lovely and warm, at this time in the morning it was still freezing cold. It didn’t matter though; Crowley wouldn’t be much of a nature reserve manager if he couldn’t withstand being outside in any and all conditions, and despite the chill in the air, at least he and Eric had been blessed with a bright, crisp, morning, with not a single raincloud in sight.

Crowley needed to record the migrant songbirds that had arrived, and so the plan was for himself and Eric to walk around the reserve and identify them by listening for their songs. Despite the sluggishness brought on by the early hour, Crowley still couldn’t believe something this fun was actually part of his job, and there was never a day that went by that he wasn’t grateful for it.

Being able to spend so much time outdoors amongst wildlife was Crowley’s dream come true. Besides the obvious benefits of immersing himself in nature every day, Crowley’s job had the added advantage of not requiring him to interact much with most of his colleagues. They were stuck in the visitor centre all day, with the exception of his intern, Eric, of course, but Eric worked hard and only ever seemed to want to impress him, which made his company bearable.

“This is brilliant; thanks for letting me do this with you!” Eric grinned proudly as he marked down another lesser whitethroat on his clipboard under Crowley’s direction as they walked along the main path, lined on both sides with wildflower meadows and rows of trees beyond. Crowley raised an eyebrow at him. He was pretty sure he had _never_ been this lively, even at twenty-two. Eric had proven himself to be extremely useful though. He always brought coffee, for one thing, and he was so efficient that some days he got so much work done that Crowley could have sworn there must be more than one of him.

After a couple of hours, the air had gradually warmed and the uplifting sound of the impassioned bird song of the dawn chorus had gradually faded into something more subdued, and Eric and Crowley had walked around all of the paths visitors used to explore the reserve. They had recorded every species of bird Crowley had been hoping to find, and hearing the songs of the chiffchaffs and reed warblers had helped to remind Crowley that summer was well and truly on the way. Soon the reserve would be buzzing with butterflies, bees and dragonflies, young chicks would emerge from their nests and take their first flight, and the meadows would burst to life with wildflowers. Crowley suspected he would spot his first swift swooping down over the lake to catch insects any day now.

Crowley breathed in deeply, taking in the crisp, fresh air and the loamy scent of spring mingled with the delicate fragrance of the early wildflowers that caught on the light breeze. It was _definitely_ going to be a good morning. A garganey, a duck that only visited the reserve a few times a year, had been spotted from one of the bird hides yesterday, and Crowley’s next task was to pop back to see if it was still there. Eric had finished some strimming yesterday, so afterwards, Crowley was going to teach him how to use the cuttings to create a habitat pile for grass snakes. Then he would check on the sheep that he and Eric had recently ferried over from the island on the lake and then released into their new paddock. This had required the use of a very wobbly boat, a great deal of determination, and may possibly have ended with Eric getting trampled by two of the more feisty individuals in the flock. Crowley was impressed that the experience hadn’t seemed to dent Eric’s enthusiasm. The sheep had kept the grass on the island the perfect length over the winter, but now the lapwings had arrived and started to breed, and hence they had needed to be moved elsewhere, and Crowley was looking forward to seeing how they were getting on.

Yes, it was going to be a _very_ good morning. Unfortunately, it was guaranteed to be a very _bad_ afternoon.

Bee, the Visitor Centre Manager, had taken great delight earlier that week in informing Crowley that someone from the Marketing and PR department at head office would be visiting the reserve, and that it would be Crowley’s job to show them around.

“Shitshitshitshitshit! Why me?” he had groaned to Eric later that day. Eric’s eyes had flicked away sheepishly, and when he had finally responded he was addressing the ground.

“Maybe because... well, you’re very good at your job, and they realise you know more about this place than anyone else?” he had ventured. Crowley had previously tried talking to Eric about not sucking up to him, but it apparently hadn’t done any good.

“As true as that is, it’s _PR_! How the bloody hell should I know anything about that?”

“You don’t have to know about PR, that’s _their_ job, isn’t it? You just tell them all about the reserve and all the amazing work you do.”

Crowley had tried to blink, but had just ended up keeping his eyes closed and dropping his head into his hands with a groan.

“Do _you_ want to do it?” he’d mumbled to his intern from behind his hands, before dragging his head back up to see Eric’s response. For a moment the young man had looked flustered, apparently believing Crowley’s question was meant to be taken seriously. It wasn’t. Eric was efficient and enthusiastic but he still had a lot to learn. Crowley would never risk letting someone else take care of this, no matter how much he might want to.

Only _Crowley_ knew his reserve inside and out. Only _he_ knew what was important, and only he would have the guts to stand up to whatever ridiculous scheme the Marketing department had dreamt up this time. They were always trying to _commercialise_ everything, but as Crowley had looked out over the big lake listening to Eric mumble something about how he could never hope to live up to Crowley’s level of knowledge, he had once again shaken his head and wondered how someone could want something so natural, so pure, so _real_ , to be sucked into the capitalist machine for exploitation along with everything else.

And now, the day had come. At 1.30pm, the representative from head office would arrive and Crowley’s perfect day would be ruined. He very much doubted they were sending someone who would give the tiniest inkling of a shit that Crowley had been up since 4.30am, more likely someone who would expect him to stay until at least 5.30pm ( _a 12 hour work day, those are always fun_ ). Crowley was trying desperately to make the most of the beautiful morning, rather than rehearsing the same old arguments over and over again in his mind, but it was difficult not to remember what had happened last time someone from Marketing and PR had paid the reserve a visit.

_“You can’t cut down thirty trees to put up a play park!” Crowley protested._

_“It will attract more schools and families, which will mean more money for the reserve.”_

_“What’s the point in making more money for the reserve if you’re just going to destroy it? Children don’t need an artificial play park here, they’ve got nature! They can climb a tree! Balance over a fallen log! Build a den!”_

_“That’s not what families today are looking for, Mr Crowley, and teachers have concerns about health and safety.”_

Michael from Marketing had been so detached from the actual purpose of a nature reserve that there had been no getting through to her. Within six months of that conversation, the brightly coloured monstrosity of a play park had been constructed. It was true that Crowley was pleased with the number of _species_ he had recorded on the dawn chorus survey with Eric this morning, but still, the number of _individual birds_ was definitely down since those trees had been cleared.

Michael had been right about one thing, more school groups and families did now visit the reserve, and that’s what had Crowley so worried. Their department only ever thought about income, so which part of Crowley’s beloved reserve would they want to destroy this time in an attempt to increase revenue? Crowley prayed that at least it would be someone different this time; he didn’t think he could stay calm if he had to face Michael again.

Crowley climbed out of his car, shoved his hands in his pockets and huffed out a long breath. Somehow he had not only been lumbered with showing the visitor from head office around, Bee had also insisted he meet them at the train station. As he grumpily plodded his way over to the platform, having checked the train was on time before he left the reserve, Crowley grumbled to himself about how something like this really should be Ligur’s job. Ligur had successfully weaselled his way out of it by suggesting that Crowley was the one who would be working with this person and so he might as well start building _rapport_ with them as soon as possible. Ligur could very well fuck off.

Crowley stared at his shoes as the train pulled onto the platform and took another deep breath, feeling his muscles tense, preparing for battle. Crowley was _absolutely_ ready for a fight. He would fight as hard as he needed to, and he wouldn’t let them so much as pull a _leaf_ off a tree this time.

“Anthony?”

Crowley looked up from his feet and turned to face the source of the voice, unsurprised to have been located so easily given he was wearing a black polo shirt emblazoned with the organisation’s logo on both the front and back. In the process of Crowley’s eyes flicking up from the chewing-gum studded train platform up to the man’s eyes, he took in his appearance, and it took every ounce of resistance he was capable of mustering to not roll his eyes.

“Crowley. Call me Crowley,” he mumbled reflexively.

“Wonderful. I’m Aziraphale. Delighted to meet you.” The man held out his hand, and Crowley took it, giving it a firm shake.

“Right. You _do_ know we’re going to a nature reserve, don’t you?” Crowley challenged incredulously, looking Aziraphale up and down one more time. At best he was dressed for the office, not the outdoors, but only then if the office had travelled back in time to the 1800s or something. Crowley’s eyes drifted down the length of Aziraphale’s body one more time. He couldn’t help himself. Aziraphale was wearing an honest-to-God bowtie for fuck’s sake, and a _waistcoat_ , and _brogues_.

_Holy shit_.

Crowley’s eyes flicked back up, and he noted that the bowtie was _tartan_. At that point he considered just walking off, getting into his car and driving off alone without saying another word. Let _Aziraphale_ fend for himself.

“Of course I do, my dear fellow! I’ve been with the organisation since the beginning; I do think I have a pretty good understanding of what we’re all about.”

“And you want to traipse around the reserve with me this afternoon... dressed like _that_?”

Aziraphale chuckled softly. “I do have standards!”

Crowley’s face contorted in response. “Tell me you’re joking.”

Crowley should never have prayed for them not to send Michael. She’d dressed like a pretentious idiot too but at least _she’d_ worn sensible shoes.

“I was under the impression the reserve had _paths_. We don’t expect our visitors to walk through the mud, do we?”

“We want them to have the _option_.”

“Well, then I shall take the option of sticking to the paths. Lead the way.”

Crowley plastered a false smile on his face and marched off the platform. This was going to be _hell_. Aziraphale followed Crowley to his car, which was even more mud-encrusted than Crowley’s jeans were. Crowley watched him intently, eager to see his reaction to the state of the interior and the fact he’d need to sit his fancy trousers on the mud-covered chair surrounded by leaves, bark chippings, a fine sprinkling of ash and various other things that could be generally characterised as nature-related debris. Crowley smirked.

Aziraphale locked eyes with him, squared up and climbed into the car, grimacing when something crunched beneath him as he sat down. Crowley laughed and swung himself into the driver’s seat. Maybe he would have some fun this week after all.

“You ok there?” he teased. Aziraphale placed his bag carefully at his feet, and Crowley didn’t miss the breath he sucked in and the way his brow furrowed as he did so. If Crowley had thought ahead, he’d have sprinkled a pile of wet grass clippings down there as well to complete the effect.

“Perfectly,” Aziraphale replied calmly, folding his hands in his lap.

Crowley turned the key in the ignition, shoved the car clunkily into first gear and put his foot down, the tyres screeching as he swung the car out of the station car park. Aziraphale flinched and squeezed his eyes shut for a while, before fixing them intently on the gear stick. The engine roared, Aziraphale’s response eliciting a wide grin from Crowley, but in the end his concern for petrol consumption won out and Crowley shifted the car into second. Aziraphale drew in a long, deep breath then seemed to regret it, wrinkling his nose.

“It smells like your car was on fire.”

Crowley was tempted to say ‘No, I’m just smoking hot’, but imagine if the man thought he was _flirting_? He could quite honestly say he would rather flirt with a tree stump, which may in fact have happened once at one of the organisation’s Reserve Managers’ meetings, a long story that involved quite extraordinary amounts of alcohol and a stump that had been surprisingly receptive to his advances.

“I’m a Reserve Manager. I burn stuff,” Crowley grumbled by way of reply. Aziraphale raised his eyebrows. “You said you’ve been with the organisation since the beginning; have you ever actually been out to one of the reserves?”

“Well... no,” Aziraphale admitted.

“How can you possibly do marketing and PR for something you haven’t even seen?”

“You don’t need firsthand experience of something to understand it well enough to talk about it, Crowley. Besides, aren’t you about to _show me_ the reserve?”

“Yeah, I suppose. That’s not the only reason you’re here though, is it?” he asked accusingly.

“Why else would I be here?” Aziraphale asked softly. Crowley glanced briefly at him, finding his eyebrows knitted together, surely a poor attempt at feigning ignorance. Crowley just shook his head and focused back on the road, pulling them into the reserve car park a few minutes later. Without a word to Aziraphale he elegantly jumped out of the car, while Aziraphale clambered out uncertainly and brushed himself down, tentatively reaching for his bag, which looked rather well-worn anyway and so presumably hadn’t been too severely damaged by its brief stint in Crowley’s car. Aziraphale himself looked rather relieved to still be alive.

Crowley led Aziraphale to the entrance of the visitor centre, Dagon’s fake smile greeting them at the admissions desk.

“Aziraphale, this is Dagon, Admissions, Dagon this is Aziraphale from Marketing and PR.”

“A visitor from HQ? What have we done to deserve this blessing?” Dagon drawled sarcastically.

“Oh, I’m just here to...” Aziraphale began cheerfully, but Crowley cut him off.

“Aziraphale, she doesn’t actually care. Come on.” Crowley gestured for Aziraphale to walk ahead of him, and Dagon gave him a devious parting smirk.

“Have fun!” she whispered, earning her a scowl. It took _a lot_ of restraint to avoid giving her the finger, but thankfully Crowley was generally pretty good at showing restraint, and simply followed after Aziraphale, coming into step with him and showing him into the main office.

“This is your office?” Aziraphale questioned, tone laced with... was that _judgement_? Crowley bristled.

“Yeah. Why?”

“It’s _leaking_!” Aziraphale observed, eyes trained on the bucket Eric had placed under the leaky roof last week. Somehow, even when it hadn’t rained for days, working in the office was always accompanied by the rhythmic soundtrack of dripping water.

“Yeah, and? We spend all the money we get looking after wildlife, not making sure we have a fancy place to work. Why, what’s _your_ office like?” Aziraphale parted his lips and then looked away sheepishly. It didn’t matter, Crowley already had a pretty good idea. He’d been to meetings at HQ before, and although he’d never had cause to step into the Marketing and PR office, he could imagine it quite clearly. “Oh, I bet it’s all fancy and corporate isn’t it? Big open spaces, white walls and massive windows? You guys at HQ do know this is a _charity_ , right?”

“Office space in the city is very much what it is, Crowley.”

“Whatever. So that’s Ligur, Office Manager,” Crowley began a pointing tour of his colleagues, the full extent of the introductions he intended to make. “Hastur, Facilities. Bee, Centre Manager,” Crowley continued, ending up pointing at an empty chair. “Probably out dealing with something that’s gone wrong. Hastur, Ligur, this is Aziraphale, our esteemed guest from Marketing and PR. We’re going out to the reserve. Tell Bee he’s here when they get back.”

“Hello!” Aziraphale announced cheerfully with a pathetic little wave. _Fucking hell_. Ligur looked him up and down and sneered before turning back to the screen of his archaic computer. Hastur laughed slyly.

“Have fun, Crowley,” he chuckled.

“Change the bucket, Hastur,” Crowley shot back, gesturing for Aziraphale to leave the office.

“Your colleagues seem...” Aziraphale began once the door was closed behind them. They started walking towards the exit out to the reserve.

“Like arseholes, yes, they’re arseholes.”

“I was going to say nice.”

“Ha! That’s a four letter word I won’t stand for when it comes to my colleagues. Other four letter words are fine should you wish to use them.”

Aziraphale looked contemplative for a second before finally saying, “Good.”

Was that...? Was he taking the piss? Crowley stopped walking and held his hand out. Aziraphale bumped into it and stopped, turning to face him. Crowley opened his mouth to speak but he couldn’t find the words, certainly not any that would be deemed appropriate for the workplace. He shook his head and started walking again, and Aziraphale followed without comment.

Once they reached the end of the corridor, Crowley shoved the door to the reserve open, knowing he should take more care since one of the hinges had fallen off a couple of weeks ago. Still, creating more work for Hastur was never a bad thing. He didn’t hold the door open for Aziraphale, who managed to scurry through just in time before the door closed.

The first sight they were confronted with was the bright and colourful artificial monstrosity Michael had called “The Wild Side”. Crowley was reminded of that terrible choice of name every single day when he was forced to look at the gigantic sign Michael had ensured was installed at the gate to the play park. The worst part was that she probably didn’t even realise the irony.

Aziraphale was admiring the play park, a beaming smile on his face as a toddler slid down the slide, squealed, and rushed back towards the steps to repeat the procedure.

"The Wild Side seems to be doing well!” he observed. “You've had it for six months now, haven’t you?"

"Yeah, it's doing very well. You know what's not doing so well?" Aziraphale turned away from the children to look at Crowley questioningly. "The population of breeding migrant songbirds. Used to be trees all that did, until Michael got her hands on it,” Crowley growled, gesturing aggressively in the direction of the _least_ wild part of the entire site.

Aziraphale furrowed his brow and pursed his lips, letting his eyes drift over the apparatus of the play park and then out to the reserve it was nestled within. When he didn’t comment, Crowley decided it was time to get it over with, the moment he had been dreading ever since Bee had first mentioned Aziraphale’s visit.

"So out with it, what gorgeous parcel of nature is it _you're_ looking to destroy and pave over?"

Aziraphale’s head whipped round to face Crowley. "I'm not looking to destroy anything!"

"Oh yeah? Then why, after you've been with the company _since the beginning_ , have you _finally_ decided to venture out to one of the reserves?"

"If you must know, I didn’t actually want to. It wasn’t my decision."

"Well, that makes sense."

"But the reason I've been sent here, if that’s what you’re actually asking, is to scope out opportunities for commercial partnerships,” Aziraphale revealed with a smile that seemed intended to be disarming. Crowley grimaced and shot a glance up to the heavens.

"Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me?"

"Sponsorship could really help the reserve to..."

"Sponsorship? You mean _advertising_! You want to slap a load of billboards up around the reserve or something? I hardly think people are going to have the same experience immersing themselves in nature if they're confronted with an advert for the latest iPhone every ten seconds!"

"Billboards? Oh, don't be silly, of course not!"

"You guys in Marketing really are completely clueless about all this aren't you?" Exasperated, Crowley ran his hands through his hair, then yanked the hair tie from his wrist to pull it tightly back away from his face. Aziraphale raised his eyebrows and pressed his lips together. " _What_? What does _that_ look mean?"

"It's just that Michael..." Aziraphale ventured cautiously.

"Yes?"

"Well, she said you might be rather... _difficult_. I had hoped any problems between the two of you might have stemmed from _her_ attitude, she _can_ be a bit of a stickler, but now I’m starting to see..."

"You think I'm difficult? Oh, trust me, you have no idea! I won't let you turn my reserve into a _commercial asset_ full of advertising space to sell!"

"Your job is to show me around the reserve, Crowley. I suggest you focus on that and leave the rest to me. It is, after all, my area of expertise."

At a loss for anything else to say, Crowley simply clenched his teeth and sauntered off down the main path into the reserve, with Aziraphale following behind him.


	2. The Composting Toilet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley deploys a new strategy to try to protect the reserve from evil Marketing schemes.

Aziraphale and Crowley had only got as far as walking the circuit of the reserve’s main path on the afternoon Aziraphale had arrived. Crowley had needed to slow his normal walking pace, as Aziraphale kept stopping to draw sketches and write detailed notes in his ridiculous flower-patterned hardcover notebook. In some ways, Crowley wished he could get his hands on that notebook to reveal Aziraphale’s secrets, but every time he thought about what Aziraphale might be planning, it just made his fists clench and his heart sink.

At just after 4pm, with an unexpected, “You look tired, my dear, perhaps we should call it a day,” Aziraphale had headed off to his hotel, on foot, and Crowley had offered no objection. Although, after giving it some thought in the car on his way home, Crowley decided that rather than being considerate, Aziraphale’s comment had been patronising and perhaps even a little insulting. That said, Crowley honestly didn’t care; at least he’d been able to get away after only two and a half hours in the man’s company, and would have chance to recover from his early start.

Crowley flopped down onto the sofa in his living room and turned on the TV. He would reheat the remains of his vegetable pasta bake later, for now, he just wanted to switch off from his thoughts about work, but that turned out to be easier said than done. Aziraphale had invaded his mind, to the extent that, after listening to him all afternoon, even Crowley’s inner monologue had taken on a slightly irritating, pretentious tone. Crowley was absolutely determined not to lose this battle.

After reflecting on the fact that antagonising Aziraphale had only seemed to make him more antagonistic in return, Crowley realised that this particular approach was unlikely to be successful. If anything, it might make Aziraphale treat the reserve even more callously. So, instead, Crowley formulated a plan that involved showing Aziraphale every part of his reserve, every perfect, breathtaking creature and landscape, stuff that even a prissy city-dweller couldn’t fail to be moved by, in an attempt to win him over to his side. Apparently he still doubted his chances of success, however, as Crowley continued to be haunted by the images _commercial sponsorship_ brought to his mind. No commercial company did that kind of thing out of the goodness of their hearts.

_This tree is brought to you by..._

Crowley shuddered and tried to shake off his thoughts. He would have to make Aziraphale see that the more they tried to commercialise the reserve, the more they would chip away at its purity and integrity, bit by bit, until eventually it just wouldn’t really be _natural_ any more. There were so few places people could go and truly immerse themselves in nature; the last thing anyone needed was for the last few vestiges of true peace and tranquillity to be corrupted. Surely people go to nature reserves to get _away_ from things like the constant bombardment of advertising?

It was Monday, and Aziraphale was staying until Thursday, so Crowley would have plenty of time to execute his plan. As they’d said goodbye that afternoon, Crowley had insisted Aziraphale join him at 5.30am the day after to capture the dawn chorus. He felt incredibly smug about this, as he himself had already been up at 4.30am and so would find it easy to get to sleep early, but Aziraphale... Silent demonic laughter echoed in Crowley’s mind, and he hoped he’d maintained at least a vaguely straight face when he had voiced this particular diabolical scheme to Aziraphale. In response, however, Aziraphale had simply smiled, said, “That would be lovely, thank you,” and wished him a pleasant evening. That PR facade was really starting to grate on Crowley’s nerves.

It was 7.30am, and Crowley and Aziraphale had been walking for two hours. Crowley had spent the entire time putting his plan into action, passionately describing every incredible detail he could think of about the songbirds of the reserve. All the while Aziraphale was visibly _freezing_ , which gave Crowley immense satisfaction, although he was _slightly_ concerned that if the man got too uncomfortable, it wouldn’t serve his objective of ensuring Aziraphale saw the reserve in a favourable light very well. Bird song was bursting from the trees all around them, and when they made their way up to the reed beds, listening to the rustle of the reeds in the wind, a sedge warbler flew out across the path right in front of them, and moments later performed its elegant song flight in an attempt to attract a mate.

“Oh, that’s really something!” Aziraphale’s face lit up as he watched the bird flutter back down to its perch. Crowley allowed himself a smug smile. Crowley had actually been pleasantly surprised so far this morning. As soon as he’d changed his approach, it had become apparent that Aziraphale wouldn’t be quite as immovable as Michael, giving him hope that his plan to turn him to his side would work after all.

“You haven’t seen anything yet, just you wait,” Crowley responded, and Aziraphale turned to face him, all wide-eyed and excited. Hopefully this was indeed genuine excitement about the wildlife, and he wasn’t just having ideas about all of the tenuous connections he could make between different unethical corporations and the incredible spectacles of nature Crowley was showing him. Still, when he visibly shivered, Crowley finally took pity on him. “It’s a bit cold, why don’t we go and get a cup of tea and then I’ll take you out on the lake?”

“That sounds marvellous, thank you!” Aziraphale replied, rubbing his hands together vigorously. He really did look relieved. He hadn’t complained once though, which was something, although his restraint was probably only born out of his desire not to give Crowley an opportunity to criticise the unsuitability of his attire, which is indeed _exactly_ what Crowley would have done if given an opening.

They headed to the tiny little hut that Crowley and Eric used as a canteen of sorts to avoid going back to the main visitor centre, and Crowley put the kettle on. Aziraphale disappeared to the toilet, and given their distance from the centre that meant him having to use what was essentially a rotting shed full of sawdust containing a low-spec composting toilet, and that thought filled Crowley with absolute glee. One thing he could say for Aziraphale though, he headed off to find the composting toilet with no objection, whereas Michael had refused and insisted on Crowley driving her back to the visitor centre in the tractor.

Crowley made two cups of tea and perched himself on a tree stump just in front of the hut. Aziraphale was gone for a _long_ time. Crowley started to wonder if he’d got lost or slipped in the mud and fallen down a bank or something. Possibly even _the_ bank, the slipperiest, muddiest bank on the whole reserve that tempted people up it with the promise of its spectacular views. Everyone had fallen down at it at some point; it was almost like a rite of passage. Crowley, of course, convinced himself that his experience hadn’t really involved falling. He’d more... sauntered vaguely downwards. He’d still ended up with a muddy arse though.

Aziraphale was gone for so long that it had actually got to the point that Crowley thought he should probably get up and try to find him when he finally saw Aziraphale emerge from around the corner, head tilted down and hands clasped in front of him. He seemed a little uncomfortable but he didn’t look like he’d fallen down a muddy bank or been ripped to pieces by brambles or anything, so it was probably best just not to ask. Besides, it’s not like you can go around asking fancy-pants PR guys from HQ why they took fifteen minutes to use a toilet. No, best not to ask. _Certainly_ best not to laugh.

_Seriously. Don’t laugh. Come on, Crowley, you can do this. Don’t laugh. Come on._

Crowley was just about holding it together, but as soon as Aziraphale locked eyes with him and tugged awkwardly on that ridiculous swanky waistcoat, he couldn’t help but burst out laughing, spluttering the sip of tea he’d just taken so it sprayed everywhere. The fact he’d been trying to hold it in just made his laughter even worse, but he did manage to place his cup down carefully on the ground beside the tree stump before finally doubling over. When he eventually looked up, wiping his eyes, he saw Aziraphale sitting on a log beside him, the lines across his forehead set deeper than usual.

Crowley cleared his throat and wiped his eyes again, but he couldn’t prevent a little more laughter from escaping before he finally brought himself under control.

“You ok?” Crowley choked out, picking up his tea and taking another sip. A small one this time, just in case.

“I’m fine, thank you.” Crowley raised his eyebrows and then turned away, staring into his cup, thinking about tea. _Not_ thinking about Aziraphale. Not thinking about the look on his face. _NOT, Crowley, NOT thinking about it. Don’t think about it!_ Crowley pressed his lips together hard and closed his eyes. “If you must know, I...”

“No, I don’t need to know! It’s fine!”

“Well, I think I’d prefer if you did know.”

“Just tell me you got lost or something,” Crowley croaked, still snickering each time he tried to take a breath. He bit down on his gum to try to control himself.

“I may not have spent much time out on nature reserves but I doubt even _I_ could manage that, it’s only around the corner. I couldn’t...” Aziraphale took a deep breath and shook his head, gesturing to his trousers. “I couldn’t get the zip undone. My hands were too cold.”

Was that funny? _Should_ that be funny? Suddenly Crowley didn’t feel like laughing anymore.

“Oh shit, really?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale nodded bashfully. “Fuck, I’m sorry, you should have said if you were that cold; we could have got tea sooner.”

Crowley’s gut actually twisted with guilt. He’d known Aziraphale was cold the whole time, and had taken great pleasure in causing him to suffer. Maybe he should ease up a bit. The man was just trying to do his job after all. Not everyone was as lucky as Crowley; maybe he didn’t even _like_ his job.

“That’s very kind of you, but I was having a very enjoyable time and you were speaking so passionately about all of the birds, I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

“Aziraphale, I could talk forever about this place. You’re going to have to tell me when you want to take a break, ok?”

“Yes, all right.”

“Your tea’s probably getting cold; I’ll make you another one.”

“Thank you, Crowley.”

Crowley retreated into the hut and put the kettle back on, privately shaking his head. He couldn’t imagine Aziraphale working with Michael; she probably walked all over him. The kettle quickly re-boiled and Crowley made another cup of tea, taking it out and handing it to Aziraphale. Their fingers brushed together in the process, and Crowley was shocked to feel how cold Aziraphale’s hands really were.

“Ah, thank you. I suppose I’d better wrap my hands around it,” Aziraphale chuckled softly and smiled at Crowley, and Crowley found himself grinning again. Aziraphale licked his lips and flicked his eyes away, focusing on the cup of tea he was cradling in his hands.

“It’ll warm up really quickly now the sun’s up properly, don’t worry.”

“Oh yes, I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Aziraphale assured him, although his knuckles had turned white with how tightly he was clutching the mug of tea.

“Why don’t you drink that and then head back to the centre for a bit? Ligur can set you up on my computer if you want to type up some of those notes you’ve been making, he’ll be in at eight? Or you could catch up on your emails or something?”

“That might be a good idea. I’m sure you have other things to be doing than babysitting me.”

Crowley didn’t object to that assessment, and opted instead to change the subject. He decided to take the opportunity to address something that had been playing on his mind, especially since Aziraphale actually seemed interested in the wildlife.

"So, you said yesterday you didn't want to come here. Can I ask why not?"

"I suppose I'm just used to the comforts of the city,” Aziraphale shrugged after a moment’s thought.

" _Comforts_? You consider traffic, pollution and constant noise to be _comforts_?"

"Perhaps _conveniences_ might have been a better word."

"Convenience at what cost though, eh?" Crowley griped, back to feeling pleased with himself for sending Aziraphale to the composting toilet. Aziraphale’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times but he didn’t actually respond, he just turned his attention back to his tea. They sat in silence, and when Aziraphale had drained the last of the tea from his mug, he stood abruptly and handed it back to Crowley.

“Perhaps you could meet me in the office later, when you’re ready? If you’re still happy to show me the lake and the island?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Whenever you’re ready. You must be very busy, managing this all by yourself.”

“Not by myself, I’ve got Eric, he’s my intern. You’ll probably meet him later. But yeah, it’s always busy from this time of year until the winter.”

“I can imagine. Well, I’ll leave you to it.”

“Don’t get lost,” Crowley advised facetiously.

“I won’t.”

Crowley smiled to himself and finished his own tea before heading to the shed to gear up for the day. Eric would be in soon and they had a whole section of brambles to thin out, and the monthly benthic invertebrate survey of the lake was due. Crowley considered waiting and doing that with Aziraphale in tow, but then decided watching Crowley count and measure bloodworms probably wasn’t the best way to convince him not to do anything to ruin the reserve. Although the bloodworms _were_ an important food source for the wading birds, he wasn’t sure Aziraphale would see the little bright red wriggly things quite the same way that he did.

When Eric arrived, they both put on their visors and headed out towards the bramble patch they would be tackling today.

“What’s the Marketing guy like?” Eric asked. “In the office they said he seemed a bit...” he paused and searched for the right word, then gave up and just shrugged.

“Inappropriately dressed to spend time out on a nature reserve?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“That pretty much sums him up. He says he’s worked for the organisation since the beginning but this is the first time he’s ever bothered coming out to one of the reserves, and he’s only here now because he had no choice, he didn’t actually _want_ to come here. He’s trying to come up with ideas for _commercial sponsorship_.”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know exactly, but trust me, these things never end well, and they _creep_ , Eric. Like, it starts with one thing, HQ saying ‘what harm could it do, it’ll bring a bit of money in, and we can use the money to support our _charitable objectives_ ’, and then it gets a little bit bigger, they change a little bit more, it’s insidious, like you won’t even notice what they’re doing until you look back and realise that everything has changed completely.”

“You seem to have done a good job of fighting it so far. Something I can look forward to in my future career, I guess?”

“Yeah, you won’t get away from it wherever you work. Trying to protect nature in a capitalist society isn’t easy. Don’t ever stop fighting.”

“I won’t. You’re teaching me well,” Eric smiled. Crowley squirmed uncomfortably, he still hadn’t got used to Eric’s constant praise.

“Since Gabriel became COO you can see his influence in everything. Do you watch those videos he records and sends round?” Crowley stuck his tongue out and mimed heaving. Eric nodded sympathetically. “His head’s so far up his own arse I don’t know how he sees where he’s going. All he cares about is _numbers_ and making himself look good.”

“What about the CEO though?”

Crowley barked a laugh. “Yeah, good luck. No one ever sees her. I reckon she’s quite happy to let Gabriel get away with whatever and then if he ever takes it too far she can just say it was nothing to do with her. It’s so frustrating! You dare to question them on it and they act like you’re going against some kind of _divine plan_. It’s ridiculous. It’s like they’ve forgotten we’re supposed to be protecting all this, not just making money.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to make him see how perfect and wonderful all this is and how commercialising would ruin it.”

“Do you think that will work? I mean, he’s got a job to do, right?”

“Yeah, well, so have I,” Crowley grunted, hauling the strimmer onto his left shoulder after his right started to ache, “and since my job involves protecting all this, that puts us on opposite sides.”

They reached the brambles and got to work strimming, the loud drone of the machinery necessarily putting an end to their conversation. Once they’d finished, Eric and Crowley returned to the shed to swap their visors for waders, heading up to the lake to do the water chemistry tests and benthic invertebrate sampling to monitor the food supply for the migrant birds. With just two sampling points left, Crowley poured another jug full of water through his sieve full of mud to reveal the creatures hiding within it, before turning his attention to Eric.

“Eric, do us a favour would you? Can you head down to the centre and fetch Aziraphale?” Eric raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, the Marketing bloke, and _yes_ , that’s his _actual_ name. He should be in the office.”

“No problem, boss.”

“Bring him here; I said I’d take him over to the island. Could you pull the canoe round as well for me?”

“Absolutely. Won’t be long.”

Eric returned with Aziraphale in tow, just as Crowley was measuring his final bloodworm (an impressive 21mm, some bird was in for a juicy feast). Crowley washed out his sieve and released all of the creatures back into the water, finding Eric approaching him hesitantly as he rose up from the ground.

“Erm... boss? Can I have a word?”

“Yeah, all right,” Crowley murmured, then raised his voice to address Aziraphale, who was loitering on the path. “Just give us a minute! Got to... get the life jackets!”

Crowley put his hand on Eric’s arm and led him under the shelter beside the lake, something about Eric’s demeanour suggesting he wanted to talk privately. He wondered what secrets he’d been able to glean from Aziraphale on the walk back here. It could be useful.

“What’s up?”

“Are you... Are you sure he’s as bad as you said?”

Crowley sighed and tilted his head, squeezing Eric’s shoulder.

“Oh, Eric, he didn’t do a PR job on you, did he?”

“No!” Eric objected, his face then contorting as he gave it more thought. “No, I... I don’t think so,” he grimaced. “It’s just... he was speaking _very_ highly of _you_.”

“Good,” Crowley affirmed without missing a beat. “Look, Eric, he’s just trying to get on your side and make out that he’s only trying to do what’s best for the organisation, and _that means what’s best for the reserve_.” Crowley delivered the last few words in what turned out to be a rather accurate impersonation of Aziraphale. Eric’s face fell.

“He used those exact words, didn’t he?” Crowley huffed. “Look, first thing you need to learn, don’t let PR people pull the wool over your eyes! Stay vigilant, remember the _creep_ , yeah? Was that all?” Eric nodded meekly. “Right, then get the buckets and do some nektonic sampling while we’re on the island. If you catch anything you don’t know what it is just take a picture and I’ll look later, ok?”

“Yes, boss. Have fun,” Eric smiled. Crowley sneered in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're enjoying this story, thank you so much for your comments and kudos, they are very much appreciated! <3


	3. The Canoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley takes Aziraphale out on the canoe to the island.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was working on a later chapter and added the Oblivious Aziraphale tag too. ;-) Also just to confirm, when I say slow burn, I mean slooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooow. Like two tectonic plates converging at a rate of 2mm per year. GLACIAL. Just giving you fair warning!

Crowley tugged two life jackets off the peg inside the shelter and headed back over to Aziraphale. He held one out to him, and Aziraphale’s face twitched. Whether due to the fact he was putting himself in a position where he would need a life jacket, or simply the fact that the bright red polyester didn’t conform to his aesthetic _standards_ , Crowley couldn’t be sure.

“It’s procedure, just shove it on.”

Aziraphale sighed, pushed his arms through the lifejacket and did up the zip. Crowley fitted his own, then stepped over to Aziraphale to tug on his jacket as well, sliding his fingers underneath (confirming that the material of Aziraphale’s waistcoat was just as ridiculously luxurious as it looked) to make sure it fit properly. Crowley felt Aziraphale’s muscles tense under his hands. Crowley frowned and adjusted the straps, quickly sorting it out before heading over to slide the canoe into the water. He crouched down on the wooden slats and gripped the side of the boat to hold it against the jetty, but when he looked up to instruct Aziraphale to embark first, he discovered he wasn’t there. Crowley turned his head and saw him still standing where he left him.

“Come on! You’re not scared of water are you? If you are, you really need to tell me.”

Aziraphale approached and tentatively crouched down beside him.

“No, I’m fine with water. I’m fine.”

Crowley could tell he was lying. He was evidently flustered, and his voice had wavered when he’d replied. Still, if he wanted to pretend not to be scared, what was Crowley supposed to do about it?

“Good, get in. Don’t worry, I’ll hold it against the side so it won’t move too much.”

Aziraphale clambered inelegantly into the boat, and Crowley kept his promise and used all his strength to hold the canoe steady against the jetty until Aziraphale was settled on the wooden seat at one end. Crowley kept one hand on the canoe and passed Aziraphale the paddles before climbing in at the front, reaching back to take one of the paddles and using it to push them away from the jetty.

“You done anything like this before?”

“No, I can’t say I have.” Well, that explained his hesitation.

“Just move your paddle back through the water then to propel us forward, let me take care of steering.”

Aziraphale was evidently stronger than he looked, as he actually did a good job of propelling the canoe through the water. Crowley focused on steering them towards the island, but did let the boat drift a couple of times when he got distracted pointing out something amazing, like the swan that was nesting amongst the reeds and had a clutch of seven eggs, the little grebe that kept diving up and down, and the female broad-bodied chaser dragonflies that were laying eggs at the surface of the water while the males buzzed around guarding them. Crowley took a deep breath and let the sights and sounds of nature wash over him. He could never get bored of this.

“What did you say the dragonflies were called?” Aziraphale’s voice interrupted his peaceful moment.

“Broad-bodied chasers, but that’s just one type. We’ve recorded twenty-one different species since the reserve was created.”

“That’s incredible! Will I be able to see them?”

“Nah, they come out at different times of year, but you should see four or five at least.”

“That would be wonderful!”

Crowley didn’t turn to look at him, focusing on steering the canoe towards the jetty on the island, but he could picture the way Aziraphale was smiling. If Aziraphale’s reactions to what Crowley was showing him were truly genuine, then all Crowley had to do was make sure he saw how commercialisation would damage the reserve, rather than making it better. He was indeed starting to feel a little more hopeful, although Aziraphale would probably just point out what they could do with the extra money, or say something about raising profile and how more people would be aware of the reserve and would get to enjoy it. Crowley wasn’t really sure what he would say if it came to that. He wanted those things, just not at the cost of the organisation’s integrity.

The canoe knocked against the jetty and Crowley reached out to grab hold of it, throwing his paddle onto the island. Aziraphale crawled onto the jetty on his hands and knees and Crowley smirked, leaping out behind him and dragging the boat up onto the island so it wouldn’t float away.

“We won’t stay long, we can’t go onto the shingle anyway while the lapwings are nesting, but there’s some pretty great stuff just in this part of the island. Eric and I were building habitat piles for grass snakes yesterday, and I’ve got some reptile mats down so we can have a look and record what’s there.”

“Grass snakes?”

“Yeah, don’t worry they’re not venomous or anything, and we’d have to be really lucky to see one. But we should get some slow worms. Maybe a common lizard.”

“Slow worms?”

“They look like snakes but they’re legless lizards. Hang on, you don’t know what a slow worm is? What happened to ‘you don’t need to have seen something firsthand to understand it’?”

“I don’t often have to deal with the specifics.”

“Right. Yeah.”

Crowley walked ahead of Aziraphale around the grassy edge of the island until they came to the survey area. He crouched down and hovered one hand over the corner of the dark grey carpet tile he’d laid out to attract reptiles.

“You ready? You don’t want to miss this.”

Aziraphale stood on the opposite side of the mat and nodded. Crowley lifted it and immediately two large slow worms began squirming around, one male and one female. Crowley quickly lowered the mat back down, not wanting to disturb them any more than necessary. He pulled out his phone and recorded them before looking at Aziraphale.

“Those were slow worms, I take it? They did look like snakes! They were rather handsome.”

“Yeah, gorgeous things.”

“Are they under there because it’s warm?”

Crowley smirked at Aziraphale’s feeble attempt to prove he had _some_ knowledge about wildlife.

“Yeah, that’s why we put the tiles down. It’s good for them but also makes it easier for us to monitor them. I need to check all of these,” Crowley replied, gesturing to the other five mats he’d placed down for the reptiles. He then spotted something he wanted Aziraphale to see. “Ok, stay still, just look at the mat furthest away, can you see there’s something on top?” Aziraphale focused where Crowley was pointing. “That’s a common lizard. You can go and have a look but try to approach slowly. Hopefully it won’t move.”

Aziraphale crept forward as if the tiniest movement would cause the lizard to bolt, and Crowley covered his snort of laughter with a cough. Aziraphale leaned over the mat and then cautiously crouched down beside it. The lizard didn’t move. Aziraphale spent only a few seconds beside it, then retreated backwards silently.

“This is all incredible! You would never know all of these different animals were here, would you?” Aziraphale beamed.

“Oh, trust me, you haven’t seen anything yet. I’ll come back on site late tonight and set up a moth trap for us to go through in the morning, then you’ll really be amazed.”

“Thank you Crowley, you really are being incredibly generous.”

“Nah, I’m not,” Crowley dismissed, and he really meant it. His only motive for showing all of this to Aziraphale was to win him around to his side. It would be much harder to corrupt something he had some kind of connection to, surely? “Anyway, here’s something for you to think about. All these reptiles just in this little patch here, and all those birds you can hear singing, yeah? Now think about all the insects you can’t even see. Then extrapolate up to the size of the area Michael had cleared to put up that damned play park!”

“Would you like me to have a word with her?” Aziraphale offered sincerely after a moment.

“ _What_?” Crowley’s eyes widened. “What good would _that_ do? It’s not like either of us can perform a miracle to bring the trees back!”

“No, I suppose you’re right,” Aziraphale sighed. He seemed genuinely saddened by the thought of it, which left Crowley feeling rather proud. Of course, although Crowley was starting to feel more certain that Aziraphale wouldn’t be physically destroying any of the reserve, that didn’t mean he couldn’t damage it in other ways.

“So, is any of this giving you _commercial sponsorship_ ideas?”

“I’ve had a few initial thoughts,” Aziraphale replied enigmatically, clutching his precious notebook to his chest. With no further information forthcoming, Crowley decided not to press. He finished recording all of the reptiles on and under the carpet tiles and then continued walking around the edge of the island.

“Come on, there’s a really nice spot to sit just round here.”

Crowley led Aziraphale to one of his favourite places on the whole reserve and lowered himself down onto the grass. It was a spot right on the edge of the lake, where the water lapped slightly against the shoreline under the influence of the gentle springtime breeze. They were shaded slightly by a young alder tree, sitting out facing towards the reed bed, where the warblers could be seen darting between the rustling stems. A mallard with eight fluffy brown and yellow ducklings swam past in front of them, and Crowley smiled. He turned and found Aziraphale watching him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Aziraphale mumbled, turning to look out towards the reeds. “This is a lovely spot.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty perfect. You should see a couple more dragonfly species if we sit here a little while. Actually, there’s one already,” Crowley announced, pointing out over the lake. “See the small blue ones moving over the water? They’re azure damselflies. Should get a four-spotted chaser too.”

Crowley watched as Aziraphale diligently noted them down in his notebook in his fancy, swirly handwriting.

“If you just want a list of species recorded on the reserve I can send you that?”

“That would be very helpful, thank you, but hardly a substitute for _firsthand experience_.”

“Quite right.”

They sat in silence for a while, and Crowley immersed himself in the soundscape of nature: the bird song, the rippling of water, the quacking of ducks, the rustling of the newly-grown leaves in the trees and the buzzing of insects. He didn’t often get an excuse to just sit and enjoy it all.

Crowley did notice Aziraphale glancing over to him a few times, but he never actually said anything. Crowley started to feel a little paranoid, wondering if Aziraphale was trying to find the right way to break some bad news to him about his plans. After a while, though, he just wondered if Aziraphale was eager to carry on with getting to know the reserve rather than just sitting in one place. He was unlikely to appreciate the peace and tranquillity the way Crowley could. He doubted someone so used to the _conveniences_ of the city would do well just spending time sitting quietly amongst nature.

“We can carry on if you want,” he muttered.

“Oh. All right.”

Aziraphale blinked a few times like he was trying to come back to reality. Maybe Crowley had misinterpreted what he wanted after all. Still, they really should crack on, so he rose up from the ground and started heading back towards the jetty. When he turned back to make sure Aziraphale was following him, he found him facing out towards the opposite side of the lake, his head moving as if he was scanning the scenery. When he finally turned back he was confronted with Crowley watching him.

“Oh, sorry! It’s just so stunning out here. I wanted to take a final look.”

“Take your time. Seriously, I’ll meet you back at the jetty if you want?”

“No, it’s fine, thank you. You’re right, we probably should carry on.”

Crowley shrugged. Aziraphale was _confusing_. At least he’d kind of known what he was getting with Michael.

They got back into the canoe, Crowley once again holding it steady for Aziraphale to get in first, and paddled back over to the other side in silence. Aziraphale kept looking up at the sky and scanning the landscape around him. The paddles made the water swish and swoosh pleasantly, the sound only interrupted by the frantic flapping of a pair of tufted ducks taking flight, disturbed by the boat. Crowley once again found himself contemplating how lucky he was to work somewhere so beautiful.

Crowley steered the canoe back to the jetty, chucking his paddle onto the land again and reaching out to grip the jetty. Aziraphale stood to disembark.

“No wait, I haven’t--” Crowley began, but it was too late, the canoe swung out and tipped downwards, depositing Aziraphale over the edge and into the water. Crowley reached out instinctively, but only managed to catch Aziraphale’s notebook. “Shit!”

Crowley clambered out of the boat onto the jetty and reached down to help Aziraphale climb up. He looked completely shell-shocked, floating upright, buoyed by the life jacket. Crowley lay down on his stomach to reach out, wrapping his arms around Aziraphale as best he could to lift him up just enough so he could grab hold of the jetty’s wooden struts. The water added a great deal of extra weight, but once Aziraphale had purchase on the struts he was able to haul himself out without any further assistance from Crowley. He really was stronger than he looked.

“What on Earth did you do that for?” Crowley challenged him, sweeping his hands down his now damp polo shirt. Aziraphale seemed to be trying to shrink in on himself, probably wanting to get away from his own soaking wet clothes. His palms were pressed against the wooden slats of the jetty and he was gasping for breath.

“I thought you had it,” he panted.

“Well, I didn’t! You don’t just get up out of a boat before someone tells you to, Aziraphale!”

Aziraphale shivered and didn’t respond. He looked like he was on the verge of tears, and Crowley took pity on him once again. He tried to ignore the guilt he felt for not giving Aziraphale a proper briefing before taking him out in the canoe.

“Don’t worry, you’re not the first person this has happened to. We keep towels and spare clothes in the locker in the shelter, hang on, I’ll fetch them.” Crowley pulled the canoe up out of the water with one hand and deposited it on the ground with a loud thud. Aziraphale hadn’t moved, still sat on the edge of the jetty pouting, until his expression suddenly transformed into one of despair.

“Oh, my notebook! I forgot my notebook! It’ll be at the bottom of the lake by now!”

“Nah, I got it,” Crowley said, flinging the notebook into Aziraphale’s hands before heading over to the shelter. Hopefully saving Aziraphale’s precious notebook would go some way further to getting him on his side, although Crowley would curse himself if it was full of ideas not just for commercial sponsorship but maybe a couple of catering outlets and merchandise opportunities involving copious mass-produced rubber ducks or something.

Crowley opened the locker and withdrew the ‘emergency clothes’. At least Aziraphale would soon be wearing something a bit more suited to being outdoors. Crowley himself had needed to wear the emergency clothes three times, and at least they would fit Aziraphale better. Crowley had needed to tie a rope around his hips to stop the trousers from falling down every five seconds.

“Here,” Crowley said, throwing the bag containing the clothes and towels onto the ground next to Aziraphale. “You can use the shelter to change. Then maybe you should just head back to the office again to warm up?”

Aziraphale hung his head and sighed. “Thank you, Crowley,” he mumbled. He looked completely dejected. Probably worried the water might have damaged his fancy waistcoat.

“See you later,” Crowley called back as he walked away, unclipping his radio from the waistband of his jeans and calling Eric.

“Yes, boss?”

“When you’re done with the sampling, meet me at the hut. Looks like we’ll have time to set out those water vole platforms after all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Aziraphale, at least Crowley had made sure his life jacket was properly fitted (and Aziraphale was totally fine about that by the way totally fine not at all flustered why would you even ask?) ;-)


	4. Nocturnal Wildlife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley continues his attempts to get Aziraphale to fall in love with the reserve by exposing him to some of the nocturnal wildlife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really, I mean slooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooow. But is Crowley starting to soften just a little bit....?

Crowley was just finishing off a coffee when Eric met him at the hut fifteen minutes later.

“Where’s Aziraphale?” Eric asked, and Crowley gave him a devilish smile. Eric’s eyes widened with horror. “What did you do?”

“ _I_ didn’t do anything! _He’s_ the one who fell in the lake!”

“He _fell in_?”

“Yup. So I sent him back to the office, and now we have a free afternoon to crack on with the water vole platforms,” Crowley confirmed with satisfaction.

“Is he ok?”

“He’s fine, he was wearing a lifejacket and I gave him the emergency clothes.”

“I mean... psychologically. He must be mortified that happened in front of you.”

“I doubt he cares what _I_ think, Eric, and other than having to spend more time in the delightful company of Hastur and Ligur I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

Eric narrowed his eyes and his mouth twitched as if he was about to say something else, but he wisely decided against it. Crowley returned his coffee cup to the hut and they fetched the water vole platforms from the shed. They spent the afternoon crawling through emergent vegetation around the lake to set the platforms down. The male water voles would use them as latrines, allowing Crowley to monitor their territories and get an idea of whether the management work he’d done last year had worked in encouraging the voles to move into new areas.

By the time Crowley returned to the office it was after three o’clock. Aziraphale was sat at Crowley’s desk, typing up information from his notebook (possibly scared that something might actually happen to it), wearing the hideous beige cargo trousers and ancient grey sweatshirt that constituted the emergency clothes. And the wellies! Crowley had forgotten about the gruesome dark green wellies. He couldn’t help but feel genuinely sorry for Aziraphale now.

“Can’t believe you chucked him in the water,” Ligur grunted. Crowley was prepared to defend himself, but Aziraphale surprised him by swivelling around on his chair and doing it for him.

“Crowley didn’t do anything wrong. I’m afraid it was my first time in a canoe and I made a rather foolish mistake. No harm done.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about Crowley’s innocence if I were you,” Hastur joined in. “He threatened to throw _Michael_ in the lake.”

“Yeah, well, she was asking for it. Aziraphale, you ready to come back out?”

“Yes, I rather think I am.”

Crowley hovered at the door to the office, only stepping out of the way to let Aziraphale pass him before glaring at Hastur and Ligur on his way back out into the centre.

“I’m sorry, Crowley. I promise I didn’t imply that you---,” Aziraphale began, but Crowley raised his hand and cut him off.

“I know. Told you. Arseholes. It’s like hell in there, I’m glad I get to be out on the reserve most of the time.”

“Yes, I suppose I can see why.”

“Let’s go to the treetop hide, there’s loads to see there and you won’t have to walk far. Can’t be comfortable in those,” Crowley grimaced as he looked down again at the wellies.

“That sounds lovely, thank you.”

They spent their last hour of the working day watching the small birds visiting the bird feeders Crowley had hung up in the trees, sitting on a comfortable wooden bench in the treetop hide. To his credit, Aziraphale did recognise some of the species, and made every effort to correctly identify the others using the information panel attached to the wall of the hide before writing them down in his notebook. After a while, he started sketching the trees and the birds.

_If he’s thinking of doing anything to this place..._ Crowley thought, swivelling around to look at the information panel about the birds and imagining it surrounded by adverts and company logos. _It’s for the greater good_ , he could hear in Gabriel’s voice in his ear, and he scrunched his face up, not realising Aziraphale was looking.

“Are you all right?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry. Was just thinking about Gabriel.”

“Ah. Well, yes, he does tend to have that effect on people,” Aziraphale offered before returning his attention to his sketch.

_Was that a joke? Did the prissy bastard from HQ actually make a joke about the COO? Wonders will never cease!_

“I’m going to head off soon. I need to pop back later to set up the moth trap. Don’t like to leave it running longer than needed. I’ll be in at seven in the morning to switch it off but you can come in later if you want. I won’t open it until you get here.”

“Seven sounds fine.”

“Since I’m coming back anyway to set up the moth trap later I’ll probably do a bit of a bat survey. Want to join me? You get to see a whole other side to the reserve at night.”

“Oh! Well, yes! Thank you, that sounds delightful!” Aziraphale beamed.

“Right then. I’ll be back at eight-thirty. Meet you at the entrance to the visitor centre?”

“I’m looking forward to it already. Thank you, Crowley. Mind how you go.”

_‘Mind how you go’? Really?_

Crowley smiled to himself as climbed down the steps from the hide, and didn’t notice that he was still smiling by the time he got into his car.

It was almost dark by the time Crowley arrived back at the visitor centre. Aziraphale was already waiting for him, sitting primly on a bench next to the front entrance. Crowley scooped up his bat detector from the passenger seat and got out of the car. Aziraphale stood and started rubbing his hands together and fidgeting with them. He was presumably cold, and Crowley had actually decided to take pity on him again (although he didn’t allow himself to give this too much thought, not wanting to consider the possibility that he was going soft) and pulled a woolly hat out of his pocket, throwing it at Aziraphale once he’d approached to within a reasonable distance.

“Put that on, it’s only going to get colder.” It was actually one of the many things Crowley loved about this time in spring, how the days could be lovely and warm but as soon as the sun went down it almost felt like winter again. Aziraphale caught the hat and stared at it for moment with parted lips (perhaps assessing whether it met his _standards_ ) before pulling it down over his head.

“Thank you,” he murmured quietly, “that was very kind of you.”

“Kind enough that you won’t tell anyone at HQ that you fell in the lake on my watch?”

“I suppose that’s fair,” Aziraphale smiled, and, despite himself, Crowley reciprocated.

“Look, I should have said earlier,” Crowley began, and Aziraphale audibly inhaled and looked at Crowley with great interest. “But you didn’t get any water in your mouth did you? If you did I need to give you a whole thing about zoonotic diseases.”

“Oh. No. No, I didn’t.”

“Good, that’d be a right pain in the arse. Right, let’s go find some bats.” Crowley took the padlock off the gate to the side of the entrance to the visitor centre to let them straight into the reserve. He switched on his bat detector and the screen emitted a low light.

“What is that?”

“A bat detector. They hunt using echolocation, this detects their calls and lowers the frequency so we can hear it, and the trace on the graph here lets us identify which species we’re hearing. They all call at different frequencies, and they sound different too. You’ll see.”

“It all sounds rather fascinating.”

“Yeah. It’ll get dark quickly now. If you look up high for the next ten minutes or so you might see a noctule, but probably not to be honest. We should get lots of common and soprano pipistrelles soon though, and maybe Daubenton’s on the lake if we’re lucky. That’s not all though, there’s usually lots of owls about, maybe foxes and mice on the paths too.”

Crowley and Aziraphale followed the main paths around the reserve, Crowley explaining that the bats liked using corridors between trees to help them navigate. After about fifteen minutes, the screen of the detector was displaying multiple overlapping traces at 45 and 55kHz, wiggly lines corresponding to the patterns of their calls, which the detector also emitted as a series of taps and clicks. Crowley stepped over to Aziraphale, turning the detector around for him to read the screen. Aziraphale shuffled closer and brushed his arm against Crowley’s.

“That line at the top is a soprano pipistrelle, the one underneath is a common pipistrelle. People used to think they were the same species before we had DNA evidence to prove otherwise.”

Aziraphale pressed a little closer to him and seemed extremely interested in the display on the screen. That sinking feeling started stirring up in Crowley’s gut again. Why was Aziraphale so interested in this? Was he going to try to form a partnership with Warner Bros and create Batman-themed trails for families to complete, with Batman merchandise available from Admissions? _That’s ridiculous_ , he told himself, but Aziraphale was definitely thinking about _something_.

A female tawny owl screeched in one of the oak trees, followed soon after by the easily recognisable ‘ooo-oooooo’ of a male not far away.

“I never get to hear owls in the city,” Aziraphale noted.

“That was a pair of tawny owls. If you see a flash of white flying that’ll be a barn owl.”

“Are there many owls here?”

He wouldn’t seek a commercial partnership with _Hooters_ would he? Ok, no, that was stupid. But Crowley could see Aziraphale possibly wanting to do something to promote their good reviews on Trip Advisor somehow, that had an owl logo too, didn’t it?

“Yeah, quite a few.”

Crowley led Aziraphale back to the lake, spotting a brown long-eared bat on the way, which was a nice surprise. The detector revealed the presence of at least two Daubenton’s bats feeding over the lake, and when Crowley passed the detector to Aziraphale and shone his torch over the water, they were lucky enough to see one of them feeding, scooping up insects with its tail.

“Incredible!” Aziraphale beamed in the general direction of the bat, and then at Crowley. Crowley smirked. Despite his lingering fears, it did feel like his plan might be working. Crowley let Aziraphale keep hold of the detector (it was recording everything for him to download later anyway) as they walked back towards the centre. Crowley was enjoying the quiet, punctuated only by the static from the detector, accompanied by tapping sounds every time a bat flew close by.

“I can hear my footsteps,” Aziraphale observed.

“What?”

“When we’re walking, I can hear my footsteps.”

“Erm... yeah?”

“I don’t think I can normally hear my own footsteps. Back home, I mean. It makes me feel like I’m actually here, you know? Like I’m connecting with the place?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Crowley shook his head. Aziraphale was definitely a strange one.

“I’m just saying it’s peaceful. _Mindful_ ,” Aziraphale elaborated, looking very pleased with himself. Oh God, that was going to be it, wasn’t it? Commercialise it as a ‘ _mindfulness experience_ ’. Get sponsorship from companies selling self-help books full of detailed protocols to follow to be _mindful_ when all it would actually take was for people to just switch everything off and plonk themselves down on a patch of grass surrounded by trees. That was something you could do for _free_. Or at least, it was something you _should_ be able to do for free.

Crowley decided not to say anything, it could risk putting ideas in Aziraphale’s head. He just kept walking, noticing the sound of his footsteps for the first time ever now that Aziraphale had drawn his attention to it, and hoping that it wouldn’t become annoying. When they got back to the gate, Crowley plucked the bat detector out of Aziraphale’s grasp and switched it off.

“I’m going to set up the moth trap. You can go if you like? Or you can stay and I’ll give you a lift? If you can bear to get back into my car that smells like it’s been on fire, that is.”

“That’s quite all right, thank you, I’m happy to walk. It’s only fifteen minutes. The cycle path is lit, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is. Ok then, I’ll see you in the morning. It’s a brilliant night for moth trapping, should be great.”

“I’m sure it will be! Thank you ever so much, Crowley,” Aziraphale gushed, and Crowley squirmed uncomfortably. Aziraphale lifted his hand to take off the hat, but Crowley stopped him.

“Keep it, just bring it back tomorrow.”

Aziraphale tilted his head and smiled before they parted ways. Crowley set off for the shed to set up the moth trap before heading home, trying not to let his mind run away with thoughts of the reserve hosting an inflatable hot yoga studio or something.

On Wednesday morning, Aziraphale took a seat on the tree stump in front of the hut while Crowley removed the lid from the moth trap. Crowley carefully pulled out the cardboard egg boxes he had filled it with, one at a time, checking for moths that had been attracted into the trap by its light and had now hidden away and gone to sleep. Eric perched on a log nearby, recording all of the species they’d caught and their numbers on a clipboard.

Aziraphale watched with rapt attention as Crowley lifted each moth gently into his hands, placing them on a nearby log to let them warm up in the sun. Eric took a few photos on his phone of some of the prettiest specimens.

“This is my favourite,” Crowley grinned, lifting a buff-tip out of the trap. This species was perfectly camouflaged to resemble a small twig. Aziraphale’s eyes widened and he stared at it with awe as Crowley placed it down carefully onto the log.

“That is absolutely remarkable!” Aziraphale drew a quick sketch of the buff-tip moth in his notebook and Crowley smirked with pride. Everyone always assumed moths would just be small and boring, but they were soon proven wrong. So far, Crowley had already shown Aziraphale a perfect specimen of the lime hawk moth, a beautiful pink elephant hawk moth, and a flawless bright white ermine.

“We used to get more poplar hawk moths, but most of the poplars on the reserve were where the play park is now.”

“Oh, I do wish you would stop mentioning that.”

“Feeling guilty, are you?”

“What? No, not _guilty_ , I had nothing to do with it. Just sad. Very, very sad.” Aziraphale hung his head and stared down into his lap. Crowley experienced an uncomfortable twisting in his gut again; Aziraphale did actually seem like he was being genuine. “I hate to see the effect it has had on _you_ , particularly.”

“Well, it’s too late to do anything about it now. But you can rest assured I will fight to preserve every inch of what’s left of this reserve.”

“I admire you for that.”

Eric raised his eyebrows and looked pointedly at Crowley, who ignored him and simply continued rummaging through the egg boxes in the moth trap. By the time he was finished, they had recorded forty different species of moth, and a couple of caddisflies and craneflies that had sneaked into the trap. Aziraphale’s favourite had been the large yellow underwing, the most boring-looking, common moth to grace any moth trap _ever_ , and he had even posed for a photo holding one (they’d caught nine of them) in his hand. Eric took the picture on his phone and promised to email it to Aziraphale later.

“That was absolutely marvellous! Thank you so much for showing me all of this, and for teaching me about all of the moths!” Aziraphale beamed.

“We were due to do a survey anyway,” Crowley mumbled in reply, Aziraphale’s incessant gratitude making him feel squirmy. Eric kept looking between the two of them like he was watching a tennis match.

“So, what’s next?”

“Actually, we’ve got a group of school kids coming down to do some pond dipping. Eric, go and set up will you?”

“No problem, boss.”

Aziraphale waited until Eric was out of earshot, then leaned closer to Crowley. “He’s very good, isn’t he?”

“He’s useful,” Crowley confirmed, crouching down beside the log he’d placed the moths on. Many of them had fluttered their wings until they’d warmed up enough to fly off, but there were still a few left. “Right, I need to hide these away in the hedge so the birds don’t just swoop down and have an easy feast.”

“I can help you with that!” Aziraphale announced proudly, clapping his hands together. “Come here, you beautiful thing, we don’t want you getting eaten do we?” he murmured to one of the drab, brown large yellow underwings, encouraging it gently to walk up onto his fingertip before depositing it in the hedge. Crowley watched him, the sight oddly compelling. Aziraphale was a _very_ strange man indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who's reading this even though it's just me rambling about nature so far! Cuteness and pining to come, hope you'll stick with me!
> 
> PS - If you've never seen a buff-tip moth, Google it, they're awesome!


	5. When Did *That* Happen?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After some pond dipping and a tour of the bird hides with Aziraphale, Crowley realises something rather inconvenient....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title says it all!

The pond dipping session with the school children was as successful as always. For a start, no one, including Aziraphale, fell in the pond. Crowley always loved interacting with kids, watching their excited faces as they fished their nets out of the water, revealing all sorts of creatures they’d had no idea had been lurking in the murky depths. Crowley and Eric scooted energetically between different groups of children, helping them to identify what they’d caught and lending them magnifying glasses to have a closer look at some of the smaller creatures. The catch of the day, as voted for by the children, was a tie between a smooth newt and a big shiny great diving beetle.

Aziraphale lingered a little way back from the group, scribbling in his notebook, but followed Crowley as he manoeuvred his way around pond dipping trays, discarded nets, identification keys and excited children. Crowley could feel him there, hovering, and could even hear the sound of pencil against paper as Aziraphale scribbled furiously in his notebook.

Aziraphale seemed to be recording almost everything Crowley was saying, and, perhaps trying to be difficult, Crowley found himself describing things in even more detail than he normally would to the children. He took particular pleasure in talking about how the water hoglouse ‘doesn’t properly do a wee’ (instead urea just bubbles out through its skin), and how the flatworm ‘eats and poos through the same hole’. A wave of satisfaction spread through him when he heard the hesitation in Aziraphale’s frantic scribbling at that one.

Once the children had washed their hands and rushed off excitedly for lunch, Eric released all of the creatures back into the pond and rinsed out the equipment, and Crowley decided to ask Aziraphale if he’d had a favourite pond creature as well.

“It’s hard to say. That was a truly magical experience, I would have had no idea that all of those creatures lived in there! Probably the water spider, that was very clever what you were saying about its underwater web house.” The water spider had been one of six species that breathes through its abdomen (bottom, for the children) that Crowley had delighted in telling the kids about just to see if Aziraphale would write that fact down. “Or perhaps the...” Aziraphale continued, consulting his notebook, “caddisfly larva, with all the sticks stuck to it for camouflage. That was also very clever.”

Crowley took the opportunity to peek at Aziraphale’s sketch of the caddisfly larva. For a quick likeness it was surprisingly intricate, and Crowley had to admit, quite beautiful. Uneasiness settled in his gut.

“Yep, nature is amazing. There’s so much most people don’t see or even think about. I guess that’s why it’s so easy for most people to just tear it down. They’re so detached from it.” Crowley intentionally didn’t mention the play park, where the children who had been with them this morning would be excitedly burning off energy after lunch. He also tried not to think about the fact that the same play park had increased their visits from schools by 23%.

Even though Crowley hadn’t explicitly mentioned the thing that Aziraphale had asked him to stop talking about, he did notice Aziraphale gazing down into the pond contemplatively. Although it might have had nothing to do with what Crowley had just said. Perhaps after all of Crowley’s talk of bottoms and pond creature toilet habits he was considering whether there were opportunities for commercial sponsorship in that arena. Toilet paper manufacturers or something. “Come on, let’s have lunch,” Crowley suggested, at which Aziraphale brightened considerably.

The three of them sat out on a picnic bench next to one of the small meadows, Eric and Aziraphale sitting opposite Crowley.

“I can’t believe this is my third day here, the time has absolutely flown by!”

“When do you go back?” Eric asked.

“Tomorrow morning.”

“Have you seen everything you wanted?” Eric continued, but rather than answer, Aziraphale looked at Crowley.

“I’m taking you round the other bird hides this afternoon,” Crowley answered around a mouthful of salad.

“Have you enjoyed your time here?” Eric was making such an effort to be polite. Crowley had to remind himself that just because Eric was his intern, he didn’t have to approach every situation the way Crowley had taught him. Crowley had _certainly_ never taught him to be polite to Marketing and PR guys from head office.

“It’s been more wonderful than I could possibly have imagined!” Aziraphale gushed. “I can hardly believe I was reluctant to come here. Crowley has been so generous with his expertise and his time, I am exceedingly grateful,” he continued as if Crowley wasn’t sitting _right there_ , close enough that Aziraphale had accidentally knocked his knees under the table several times.

Eric fixed Crowley with a stare, and Crowley gave him one in return, which he hoped conveyed, ‘yes, he’s doing his PR thing’. Eric squinted and turned back to Aziraphale. The two of them chatted for a while and Crowley zoned out, seeing if he could spot the first southern marsh orchids flowering in the meadow.

As promised, that afternoon, Crowley took Aziraphale on a tour of the bird hides, and they ended the day in one of the smallest ones, nestled along one of the back channels feeding into the lake. A few tufted ducks were bobbing up and down on the water in front of them, and when they started preening, Crowley watched the rivulets of water sliding off their backs, in a mindfulness-for-free kind of way.

"You were right you know,” Aziraphale murmured out of nowhere. Crowley pulled his attention away from the ducks to look at Aziraphale.

"Yeah? About what in particular?"

"I really did have no idea before I came here. I really am _so_ sorry about what Michael did. I’m devastated to think about all of those trees being cleared.”

An uncomfortable sensation started building in Crowley’s chest, squeezing on his heart, which didn’t really seem like what pride and success should feel like.

“I can tell you don't think that much of me,” Aziraphale confessed, himself still staring out at the ducks on the lake, “and I'll admit I didn't know as much about this place as I should have, but I want you to know that I do believe in what our organisation does, Crowley,” he said softly, then sighed before continuing, still gazing out onto the water. “Do you want to know why you ended up with me this time and _not_ Michael? Because Gabriel knew I didn't want to come here. Things haven't been good for me at head office recently. I...” Aziraphale hesitated for a moment. “I was reprimanded last month."

"Why?"

"Because they wanted to accept sponsorship from... well, let's just say a company with poor environmental credentials. The company just wanted to tick a box, use us to boost their image. I put a stop to it, and ended up with a strongly-worded note from Gabriel about how much money I’d cost the organisation. I may not be as close to this world as you are, but I have been fighting to save it too. I’ll come up with something suitable, I promise. I have to."

Aziraphale turned to look at Crowley for a moment, blinking rapidly, his eyes glazed, and for a second, Crowley’s heart was no longer felt like it was being squeezed. Instead, it had seized up completely like a marshmallow in a vacuum chamber. Something warm and weird started slithering around in his gut like a slow worm under a carpet tile, and his heart stuttered back into life, demanding his attention.

_Oh shit. Oh no..._

His eyes widened and he looked Aziraphale up and down, his heart fluttering like a moth’s wings.

_Oh **shit**! When did **that** happen? _

Crowley cleared his throat.

"Right. Well... Yeah. Hopefully.” _Oh, **fuck**!_ “I’m gonna head off now. Was an early start. So. Yeah, I'm heading home. Can I drop you anywhere? Your hotel? Or a restaurant?"

"Oh, that's very kind of you but no, thank you. I'm quite all right to walk."

This was the second time Aziraphale had refused a lift from Crowley. He wondered whether it was because of the state of his car or, more likely, because of his reckless driving. His insides clenched as he remembered how terrified Aziraphale had been after he’d picked him up from the station on Monday.

"You sure? It's no trouble? I promise not to go too fast."

"Yes, I'm sure. I have a lot to think about. I might actually sit here for a little while longer. Goodbye, Crowley, I’ll see you in the morning. I’ll come by for a couple of hours before I have to catch my train. I hope you have a pleasant evening."

“Yeah, you too,” Crowley mumbled in response, dropping down from the tall wooden stool he’d been perched on and hanging his head down as he marched out of the hide.

_Shitshitshitshitshit!_

As it turned out, Crowley did _not_ have a pleasant evening. How could this be happening? How could that ridiculous velvet waistcoat that had elicited such thorough derision from Crowley on Monday have transformed a mere two and half days later into something inviting, something that would be nice to run his hands over, to undo the buttons of...

_SHIT!_

Had Crowley really been so focused on maintaining his war footing earlier in the week that he'd never even really _looked_ at Aziraphale? Because now all he wanted to _do_ was to look at him... the way his cheeks rounded when he smiled... the way his eyes lit up when Crowley showed him something new... _oh fuck._

And he was leaving _tomorrow_.

_I should have invited him to dinner! It’s his last night here! Oh shit, I’ve just let him eat alone all week, that’s so fucking rude!_

Crowley had been marching along the path back towards the car park, but froze for a moment. He could turn back, there was still time. He could apologise for not thinking of it earlier in the week and invite Aziraphale out for dinner. That was normal. When visitors had come from head office in the past he knew Bee had begrudgingly taken them out for dinner before. They even had to entertain _Gabriel_ for an entire evening once, the thought of which had amused Crowley no end at the time.

Crowley had been tempted, but considered the possibility that it might just make things worse. He was already going to be spending who knew how long remembering every conversation he’d had with Aziraphale, trying to work out when his feelings towards him had shifted so dramatically.

How had he not noticed how he was feeling? Seriously, how could he just _not notice_? Had it really crept up on him that gradually, or was it just Aziraphale’s little impassioned speech in the hide just now that had done it, all at once, just like that?

Oh, but Eric! The way he’d looked at Crowley at lunchtime! _That’s_ what that look had meant! Eric could _tell_! _How_ could he tell? How could he tell how Crowley was feeling when he hadn’t even realised himself?

_Fucking hell, I’ll never live this down._

Crowley had decided to keep walking. If he saw Aziraphale outside of work he just risked feeling more... things. Things he didn’t want to be feeling. So no, he would go home, he would allow himself to obsess about this for the evening (because some battles just weren’t worth fighting), and then he would get up for work tomorrow and try to focus for two hours before Aziraphale had to leave.

Spending time in the office was always like being in hell, but being there for the ‘debrief’ meeting with Aziraphale was like being thrown into one of hell’s bubbliest, most scorching pits of boiling sulphur. It certainly _felt_ hot. When had it got so hot? Crowley tugged at his collar. He couldn’t concentrate on anything Aziraphale was saying. He managed to nod and make vaguely affirmative sounds from time to time, but nothing was going into his brain. He removed his hair tie, running his hands through his curls and drawing them forward to sit around his face, hoping it would hide the redness he could feel spreading across his cheeks. Aziraphale blinked, stopped talking and studied him for a moment, and Crowley knew he probably looked ridiculous and his hair was a complete mess, but he was a lost cause at this point anyway so what difference did it make?

“Well, thank you again for your time, Crowley, and for letting me run through all of that. I’m glad I hadn’t made any errors.”

Is _that_ what that meeting was? Aziraphale had been running through his notes to check everything was accurate? Crowley could only hope Aziraphale was indeed as diligent as he seemed and hadn’t made any mistakes, because if he had, Crowley had missed them completely.

“S’no problem.”

“Well, I’d better get to the station.”

“I’ll give you a lift,” Crowley blurted out, hoping he didn’t sound too desperate. The station was further away than Aziraphale’s hotel, five minutes in the car but more like forty on foot, so Crowley really hoped he would accept the offer.

“Oh, thank you. I’d appreciate that.”

Crowley’s heart swelled and he rubbed his palm across it in an attempt to dispel the sensation. Aziraphale popped out of the meeting room to say a quick farewell to Hastur, Ligur and Bee, and all parties seemed equally keen on keeping their goodbyes short.

As Crowley drove the car (at first like a normal person to try to make Aziraphale feel comfortable, then faster so as not to give away that he wanted Aziraphale to feel comfortable, then slower again when his intestines twisted themselves into knots over the way Aziraphale gripped the side of his seat), he found himself facing the unbearable dilemma of whether to endure the uncomfortable silence or try to say something, recognising that anything he did try to say would probably be stupid.

Crowley glanced over at Aziraphale a couple of times. _He_ didn’t seem uncomfortable, even in spite of the fact he had a few sticks of willow poking him in the head as a result of how Crowley had propped them up in the back against the passenger seat.

Crowley pulled the car sensibly into a parking space and climbed out, crossing his arms and leaning them on the roof of the car.

“Want me to wait with you?”

Aziraphale hesitated, which Crowley hoped indicated he was actually considering it, rather than just thinking about how to politely say he’d had quite enough of Crowley’s company this week.

“Oh, thank you, but no, that’s all right. You’ve given me enough of your time this week already, you must have a lot to catch up on.”

_I’d **like** to wait with you._

“Yeah, ok. Hope your train’s on time,” Crowley managed by way of response. Aziraphale walked around the car to come and stand in front of him.

“Crowley, I know I’ve said this already but please don’t underestimate how grateful I am for your time this week. I really will do my best for you, I promise.”

The ‘ _for you_ ’ had Crowley’s stomach doing back flips, and he resented it immensely for it.

“Yeah. Erm... good. Thanks. See ya,” Crowley mumbled, and Aziraphale held out his hand. Crowley looked at it like it was a great diving beetle waiting to sink its fangs into his skin (which had happened more than once when retrieving a child’s dropped net from the pond), but managed a quick handshake, from which he emerged relatively unscathed aside from the quickening of his pulse.

“It was lovely to meet you. It’s been an absolute pleasure. Do pass on my thanks to Eric as well, will you?” he requested, and Crowley nodded. “Well, then. Goodbye.”

“Bye,” Crowley mumbled, and jumped back into the car as quickly as possible, although he was unable to resist the temptation to use the interior mirror to watch Aziraphale walk away onto the platform.

When he returned to the reserve, Eric was waiting for him by the shed.

“Eric,” Crowley acknowledged him with a nod.

“So Aziraphale’s gone then?” There it was again: that _look_.

“Shut up.”

“What?”

“Stop talking or I’ll make you clean out the shed,” Crowley growled, climbing into said shed, snatching a visor off one of the hooks and pulling it down over his head.

“I didn’t say anything!”

“Right, in you get,” Crowley demanded, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the door he’d just walked out of. “I expect it to be spotless when I get back.”

Crowley hauled the strimmer over his shoulder and marched off into the reserve. He wasn’t even sure what needed strimming, but he was determined to find something. He needed the loud drone of the machinery to drown out his thoughts of Aziraphale... How heartbroken he’d been about what Michael had done. How he’d offered to have a word with her for Crowley’s sake, even though it wouldn’t have achieved anything. His cute little sketches and his perfect, flowing handwriting. The way he’d cradled one of Britain’s most dull and common moths in his hands like it was something precious. The way he sometimes clasped his hands behind his back when he walked. His blonde curls that looked so soft and fluffy like candyfloss. His ingenuous admiration of all the creatures he’d encountered on the reserve. The way he’d been so immensely grateful when Crowley had given him a hat to wear, as if Crowley had done him some kind of incredible service. And ‘ _I really will do my best for you, I promise_.’

Quite simply, Crowley was well and truly fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LET THE PINING COMMENCE


	6. Eden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Months later, Aziraphale gets in touch with Crowley about a corporate sponsorship deal.

Crowley didn’t hear anything from Aziraphale for a couple of months (aside from a thank you email after Crowley sent him the list of all the species that had been recorded on the reserve - a thank you email _with a smiley face in it_ that had brought Crowley much more joy than it should have). He could feel the shift it induced in his demeanour for the rest of the day, and was painfully aware of the stupid smile on his face. He could tell that Eric had noticed, but fortunately for Eric he seemed to have learnt what was good for him and kept his mouth shut (and as an additional bonus, the shed had never been so clean and organised for as long as Crowley had worked there).

Work returned to normal, and Crowley got on with keeping on top of the crazy reserve management schedule of the late spring and summer, and focused on enjoying his favourite season. He knew one day he would receive an email from Aziraphale about _corporate sponsorship_ , but after a while he pretty much stopped thinking about it. He even stopped thinking about Aziraphale, for the most part, anyway. Well, that said, he did tend to remember him anytime he took the canoe out on the lake. Or whenever he needed to visit the treetop hide. Or whenever he spotted a certain species of dragonfly on the wing for the first time in the season. Or whenever he watched water sliding off a duck’s back.

But it was fine, Crowley could handle it. He’d spent less than four full days with Aziraphale, and had spent most of that time thinking less than highly of him, so surely these inconvenient feelings wouldn’t last too long? _Surely?_

Yet Crowley couldn’t stop his mind from continuing to drift to Aziraphale, even if the frequency had reduced over time. He tried to picture him working in his fancy leakless office at HQ. He wondered whether his working relationship with Michael had changed since he’d learnt what she’d done with the play park. He bristled when he thought of Gabriel ‘ _reprimanding_ ’ him. He wondered if Aziraphale would ever need to come back to the reserve.

In July, when Crowley managed to get an incredible photograph of a female emperor dragonfly laying eggs in the lake, his first thought was that he desperately wanted to send it to Aziraphale. He ended up sat on the stump in front of the hut, hunched over his phone, staring at the image for far too long.

“Nice shot!” Eric praised from over his shoulder, settling himself down on the big log with a cup of coffee.

“Thanks.”

“You should send that to Aziraphale; he seemed especially interested in the dragonflies.”

“Why on Earth would I send it to Aziraphale?”

Eric just shrugged in response and dropped the matter. “Can I have a copy though? It’s a great picture.”

“Yeah, I’ll send it to you.”

“Thanks boss!”

Crowley forwarded the photo to Eric and then put it out of his mind, draining the last of his own coffee and pocketing his phone. It would pass. All of this would pass. He just needed to not encourage his thoughts of Aziraphale, reassuring himself that if he could just do that, _eventually_ they would fade away.

**Subject: Sponsorship for the reserve**

Crowley picked up the email while he was on his office computer, ordering more supplementary feed for the sheep. He may have involuntarily gasped when Aziraphale’s name had appeared in his inbox, but fortunately, Hastur and Ligur didn’t seem to notice. The dragonflies that Aziraphale had loved so much seemed to have taken up residence in Crowley’s stomach, and his hand was trembling as he clicked to open the email.

**Dear Crowley,**

**I hope you and the reserve are keeping well. As you know, I have been exploring potential corporate sponsorship opportunities and partnerships to provide some financial support for your reserve and the incredible work you do there. It has taken some time, but I am pleased to report that we are in the final stages of coming to an agreement with a company called Eden. I’ve attached a document detailing the conditions of the sponsorship. There is one aspect they have requested (highlighted in yellow) that would require your input, so I would be very grateful if you could read the document and let me know whether this is something you would be willing to do.**

**If you would like to discuss it further, please don’t hesitate to contact me. My telephone number is in my signature below.**

**Best wishes**

**Aziraphale**

Crowley read the email twice (having to remind himself to keep breathing at ‘the incredible work you do’ and ‘my telephone number’) before opening the attachment. It contained some background information about Eden, a consultancy firm that specialised in helping businesses transition to more sustainable working practices. The company’s address was included, and it turned out to be relatively local to the reserve. Apparently the company wanted to donate fifty percent of its profits to environmental conservation initiatives and organisations, and, it was clearly stated, would list these organisations on its website but not expect the organisations to promote their business in any way.

The company had, however, asked for a couple of things in return. Firstly, they wanted their staff and their families to be allowed free admission to the reserve. Secondly, they wanted someone at the reserve to run biannual ‘team-building’ days for them (better than going paintballing or some other ridiculous venture businesses seemed to go in for these days). This was the line that was highlighted in yellow, with a note appearing at the side.

**Would you be happy to run something like this please Crowley? I’m certain they would enjoy catching pond creatures as much as the children do, and I’m sure you could come up with plenty of other fantastic ideas as well.**

Crowley kept one hand on the mouse as he scrolled through the document and pressed the other to his stomach, which was once again doing ridiculous things that it really had no business doing. He sucked in a deep breath and read the note from Aziraphale again. The simple fact of Aziraphale thinking about him, typing his name, writing a message to him, was enough to set Crowley’s heart on a mission to try to climb out of his throat. He forcefully swallowed it back down.

Half of his mind was full of thoughts of Aziraphale, and the other half was full of ideas for team building activities. Getting people outside and properly immersed in nature was one of the things Crowley was most passionate about, and Aziraphale knew that, and he’d done _this_...

_Fuck. This isn’t just going to go away is it?_

No advertising. No logos plastered over the information panels. No repainting of the bird hides to match a company’s branding palette. Just money for the reserve, in exchange for something that would encourage more people to come and appreciate it and benefit from it.

“You angel,” Crowley whispered reverently to his computer screen.

A month later, the proposal Crowley submitted for how to spend the sponsorship money was approved. He would be able to construct the kingfisher nesting bank he’d always wanted, plant a new row of poplars at the far end of the reserve, update their water testing equipment, convert a patch of grass to a new wildflower meadow, build a reptile and amphibian hibernaculum, and create a shelter beside the pond so children could still do pond dipping when it was raining. In the longer term, this shelter would be expanded into a larger education zone, which would blend in with the surroundings. It would include a big TV screen and a magnifying camera so Crowley could project images of the pond creatures for all the children to see while he talked about them, and tasteful interpretation panels about the animals that could be seen on the reserve in different seasons. It was going to be _brilliant_. The sponsorship even covered an extension to Eric’s internship, and Eric had been absolutely thrilled.

In late September, Crowley welcomed his first group of Eden employees for his team-building day. They helped him to clear the cuttings from the meadows to keep the nutrient levels down in the soil, completed a ‘build a waterproof den with entirely natural materials’ challenge in groups, and, because Aziraphale had suggested it, even did some pond dipping. One member of the team managed to catch a frog and became the hero of the day, these adults just as excited as the children normally were, and Crowley’s eyes had actually pricked with tears. They finished the day with tea and cake, and left with beaming smiles on their faces.

Crowley kept thinking about emailing Aziraphale to tell him how well the day had gone, but every time he tried he just ended up staring at a blank email for more time than he could afford to spare. Two days later, however, he received a message from Aziraphale.

**Subject: Eden team-building day**

**Dear Crowley,**

**I hope you are well! I just wanted to get in touch to let you know that I’ve received some lovely feedback from the CEO at Eden about the team-building day you ran for them on Tuesday. I’ve attached her letter to this email. Thank you very much again for all the hard work you put into it, I am extremely grateful for your support with this endeavour. Your time is very precious and I want you to know that I do not take your involvement with this for granted. The day sounds like it was absolutely marvellous! I must admit to being rather jealous, I would have loved to have been there to take part!**

**All the best,**

**Aziraphale**

Crowley opened the letter from Eden’s CEO, and found it absolutely gushing with praise. ‘Exactly what I was looking for’, ‘had a wonderful time’, ‘really connected as a team and with the wildlife we too believe in protecting’, ‘the passion and dedication of Mr Crowley’... and so it went on. Warmth began building in Crowley’s chest knowing that Aziraphale had read these words, which spread further throughout his body when he thought about the fact that Aziraphale had also wanted to send it to him.

**Dear Aziraphale,**

**I am very well thank you, I hope you are too. Thank you very much for sending on the feedback, that is very gratifying to see.**

Crowley got that far before his brain started throwing out unhelpful suggestions for what to type next.

_I can’t tell you how grateful I am for everything you’ve done._

_You’re an absolute angel._

_I really wish you could have been here too._

_I miss you._

**I hope the partnership continues to go well. Please let me know if you need anything else from me.**

**Kind regards**

**Crowley**

Crowley kept hoping Aziraphale would reply to his message, but nothing came. Of course it didn’t, he hadn’t given him anything that needed a response. Maybe he should have asked some questions, as Aziraphale was so polite he would probably have felt the need to answer. He could have asked ‘how are you?’ instead of just saying he hoped he was well, and he could have said ‘do you need anything else from me?’. Crowley cursed himself for the missed opportunity, although, when he forced himself to think about it, opportunity for what? A few words exchanged between them by email? Would that really make any difference?

Crowley shut down his computer and headed back out onto the reserve. He and Eric were going to start work on the new hibernaculum.

“You ok, boss?”

“I’m fine.”

“You seem... weird,” Eric ventured. Crowley simply snarled at him in response, and Eric wisely changed the subject. “I’ve just finished sorting everything out for you for the Reserve Managers’ meeting next month.”

“Oh shit, the RM meeting! I forgot about that! Which reserve is hosting? It’s not us is it?”

The Reserve Managers’ meeting took place every October, and involved Crowley and his counterparts from the organisation’s other four reserves all coming together for two days to talk _strategy_. It was always exhausting and usually frustrating, although it did tend to involve enough alcohol to make it almost seem worthwhile.

“Er, no. It’s being held at HQ this time. Gabriel wants to meet everyone and talk about some strategic... revisioning... key priorities... something.”

“It’s at HQ?” Crowley asked, trying as hard as he possibly could to disguise the excitement that had absolutely no business lacing his voice. He bit back a smile and turned away from Eric, busying himself selecting a shovel from the shed. “Fucking expensive.”

Yes, that’s better. That’s something Crowley should observe. Crowley was always concerned about wasting the reserve’s limited budget, although, of course, thanks to Aziraphale...

_That’s enough of that._

“Don’t worry, I’ve sorted it all out. It won’t be too expensive,” Eric reassured him.

“Ok, good. Thanks. Grab a shovel, and can you manage the wheelbarrow with the rocks?”

“No problem, boss,” Eric grinned. He seemed exceedingly proud of himself. Not that Crowley was complaining, he was always grateful when Eric took care of annoying admin tasks, and, in fairness, he had completely forgotten the meeting was even happening.

HQ though! Crowley felt jittery, and tried to get it out of his system by forcing his shovel into the ground with more effort than needed and hauling the biggest rocks out of the wheelbarrow when it came time to construct the underground chambers of the hibernaculum. Eric watched him amusedly.

“Shut up, Eric,” Crowley grumbled as he lowered one of the rocks into position.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Your face did. Now tell it to _shut up_.”

“Anything you say,” Eric smiled, and then proceeded to avoid looking at Crowley for the rest of the afternoon.

**Subject: Reserve Managers’ meeting**

**Dear Aziraphale,**

**I’ll be coming to head office for the**

_ShitshitshitshitshitshitshitSHIT!_

**Discard email?**

**OK**

Crowley didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t go all the way to head office and not see Aziraphale, that didn’t seem like a viable option, he’d end up regretting it too much. Of course, if he _did_ see Aziraphale, he’d probably end up regretting that too. Should he just hope to bump into him? Or pay a visit to the Marketing and PR office? But then he’d have to see Michael and the rest of those idiots. He should just ask if Aziraphale had ten minutes for a quick coffee to catch up about the partnership with Eden. The RM meeting agenda was jam-packed so it’s not like he would be able to spare much time anyway, so maybe that was a good way to go about it? In the end, Crowley simply gave up and did nothing.

**Subject: Reserve Managers’ meeting**

_What the fuck?_

**Dear Crowley,**

_What the actual fuck?_

**Looking forward to seeing you when you’re here next week! Please do let me know if you’ll be needing anything.**

**Warmest wishes,**

**Aziraphale**

_What, and I cannot even **begin** to express this enough, the fuck?_

Of course it made sense that everyone at head office would know the RM meeting was going to be there, but the fact that Aziraphale had emailed him to say he was looking forward to seeing him put a stupid grin on Crowley’s face that refused to leave. He’d have to make sure to stay out of Eric’s way until he finally got it under control. He wasn’t quite sure what Aziraphale thought he might ‘be needing’, though. He was tempted to reply with ‘just a sick bag for when Gabriel comes to speak to us please’, but that was the kind of thing best not put in writing in a work email. What else could he possibly need? Aziraphale was just being polite, he supposed.

**Re: Reserve Managers’ meeting**

**Dear Aziraphale,**

**Looking forward to seeing you too**

Crowley hit the backspace key with unnecessary force.

**Dear Aziraphale,**

**Yes, see you then. Won’t need anything, but thanks.**

**Crowley**

Crowley stared at it for a while before pressing send. He considered arranging a time to meet, but figured since Aziraphale had said he was looking forward to seeing him (as if he could just go around saying things like that without turning Crowley’s heart into mush) so obviously had plans to pop down to the meeting, probably during one of the coffee breaks. He’d probably try to wangle a free cake or something.

So Crowley had sent the email without suggesting a specific time to meet, although he did start to worry that he might spend the entire RM meeting on edge, knowing that at some point Aziraphale would appear (looking all angelic and perfect and lovely) but having no idea when it would actually happen. But it would be fine. It was going to be fine. It was fine. It was totally fine. He’d be fine. Really. Breathing might become an _optional_ rather than a _compulsory_ activity for his lungs, but that was fine. His heart might explode, but that was fine too. It was all fine. It was great. He was going to see Aziraphale again. It was fine. It was going to be _fine_.

_Oh, I am so screwed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading and for your comments and kudos!! They're going to see each other again!!!! (Obviously hahahahaha) Hope you're enjoying it so far!


	7. A Miscommunication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley attends the RM meeting and is reunited with a certain angelic colleague.

Crowley sat through five hours of PowerPoint presentations on day one of the Reserve Managers’ meeting, including Gabriel’s two hours of corporate speak, during which he managed to use a whole raft of words without, somehow, actually saying anything. Whatever this ‘revisioning strategic plan’ was, Crowley was none the wiser than he had been yesterday, and to think, that was the whole reason why they'd all been dragged to head office. Not that Crowley was complaining about that.

The PowerPoint presentations had been broken up by a lunch break and an afternoon coffee break, at which there was indeed cake, and Crowley had spent the entirety of both of those breaks looking up towards the door every ten seconds whilst trying to hold a conversation with the other Reserve Managers without letting on that he was distracted. He thought he did quite well. Aziraphale didn’t appear, and Crowley tried his best to quash his disappointment. He must be busy. He might not even be in work today, after all, the meeting was going on tomorrow as well, perhaps he had planned to pop down then.

At the end of the meeting, talk amongst the Reserve Managers was rapidly steered in the direction of the best places to get food and drink now it was finally over. They all agreed it was going to take _a lot_ of wine to recover from staring at that many PowerPoint slides, particularly as the consensus was that they hadn’t actually learnt anything useful, or even understood most of it.

One of Crowley’s counterparts clapped him on the shoulder and they all started putting their coats on. That’s when it finally happened.

"Hello, Crowley!"

Crowley glanced up towards the door and his face broke out into an involuntary beaming smile.

“Aziraphale,” he breathed, completely awestruck. Crowley had been mentally preparing himself for this moment, expecting to feel the same way he had when he’d last seen Aziraphale and just about ready to handle it. Of course, Crowley hadn’t accounted for the fact that what Aziraphale had pulled off with the sponsorship deal, and perhaps a few too many hours spent dreaming about him, had significantly magnified his feelings. It was like seeing Aziraphale with different eyes, and he seemed to be shimmering around the edges, although that might have just been due to the way the light filtered in through the doorway. Crowley crossed the room to join him, leaving his colleagues talking amongst themselves.

“How has your meeting been?” Aziraphale asked brightly, clasping his hands together in front of him.

“Uhhyeawreahh...” _Oh, come on!_ Crowley urged himself, finally settling on, “PowerPointy.”

He could do this. It was fine. It was _more than_ fine. Aziraphale was actually standing right in front of him. Really. He was _actually there_.

_God, he’s gorgeous._

“Ah, well, you have my condolences. Have you had Gabriel’s ‘revisioning’ talk yet?”

“Oh, yes.”

“And how did you find that?”

“I was _bored_ , transcendentally _bored_!” Crowley groaned, and Aziraphale chuckled and adjusted his collar. Crowley flushed with pride that he’d managed to make Aziraphale laugh, and found himself relaxing a little. He even leaned a little closer to Aziraphale, as though he were about to divulge a secret. Aziraphale leaned in too, and it was to maintain the air of furtiveness, _not_ because he couldn’t breathe properly, that Crowley lowered his voice to barely more than a whisper. “I know every single one of those words Gabriel said, with the exception of ‘revisioning’ which he obviously made up, but I have no idea what they were supposed to mean all put together.”

“No, I must say I didn’t either when he presented to our team,” Aziraphale murmured in the same hushed tone that Crowley had adopted, and the gentle rumble of his voice made Crowley shiver. “I always thought ‘revision’ was something you did for an exam. I think perhaps he’s going to change some things but doesn’t know what yet.”

“Do you see what you did just then?” Crowley asked, raising his voice excitedly and pointing a finger at Aziraphale, who pushed out his bottom lip and shook his head. “You just said that in words that made sense and it only took you three seconds! _Three seconds_! Not two bloody hours!”

Aziraphale laughed openly then. “Well, you shall have to treat yourself tonight to get over it. I assume you're having dinner with your colleagues?"

“Yeah, we’re just trying to work out where to go.”

“I assumed you would be, I just wanted to make sure.”

Crowley’s eyebrows knitted together. Why would Aziraphale want to ‘make sure’ of that? Unless... Crowley’s heart started beating a demanding rhythm against his sternum. Was Aziraphale going to suggest the two of them get dinner together?

Crowley told himself he was being ridiculous getting so excited about that. Aziraphale was just making sure he had plans to eat, it was more than _he_ had done for _Aziraphale_ when he’d visited the reserve, and that thought still threatened to rip his heart in two. Aziraphale was polite and thoughtful, and besides, he would have known that the Reserve Managers would be going out together. He knew that. He was being polite.

"Erm... thanks," Crowley mumbled after an unjustifiable pause.

"Well, let me give you my mobile telephone number, you can call me when you're ready and I'll come and meet you."

"I.... what?"

"I could just give you my address, if you'd rather find your own way?"

"My own w--... erm... _what_?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, have you made other arrangements? It's just that when I spoke to your lovely intern I told him I would be happy for you to stay with me, to save the cost of a hotel room. London is expensive as I'm sure you know."

"You spoke to Eric?"

"Yes, a while ago now. Perhaps he forgot. No matter."

Crowley had known that at some point during his encounter with Aziraphale he would forget how to breathe, and this turned out to be that moment. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, holding up a finger to stop Aziraphale from saying anything else.

"Let me just..." he mumbled, pulling his phone out of his pocket and walking out of the room, finding a quiet corner to make his phone call. After four rings, Eric picked up, and Crowley didn’t even give him chance to say hello. “What the _fuck_ did you do?” he hissed into his phone. There was a momentary pause, followed by Eric’s voice materialising on the other end of the line.

"What's wrong boss?"

"Oh don't play innocent! You didn't tell me Aziraphale said I could stay at his place!"

"Are you sure I didn't mention it?"

"Eric, I swear to..." Crowley growled, then stopped himself and took a deep breath. "Eric. Did you book me a room in the hotel with the other Reserve Managers?"

"I... no, I didn't. It was over a hundred pounds! I knew you wouldn't want us spending that kind of money when you had somewhere to stay for free!”

"You could have told me!"

“I’m sure I told you I’d made sure it wouldn’t be expensive?"

“That’s not quite the same thing now, is it Eric?”

"I’m sorry, boss. I wasn’t trying to be devious, I was just sure this is what you’d want and, to be honest, I just thought it might... play on your mind if you knew in advance."

Crowley clenched his teeth and scrunched his eyes closed. He pulled his hair loose and ran his free hand through it.

"Yes, right, well then. Fine,” he sighed. Eric was right, there was no way Crowley would have wanted to spend that kind of money, and it most certainly would have played on his mind, but there would still need to be consequences for Eric’s actions. “I’m going to think of something horrible for you to do and text you, and whatever it is I want it done by the time I get back! In fact, no, why should I do the work? _You_ come up with it, think of the worst thing I could possibly ask you to do and then do it!"

“Will do!” Eric chuckled, then continued in a soft tone. “You’ll be fine, boss. He only ever has lovely things to say about you. Why don’t you try saying some nice things in return?”

“Oh no, you and I are not having this conversation! _Goodbye_ , Eric.” Crowley hung up the phone without waiting for his intern to return the sentiment.

Of course it made sense to save the money if Aziraphale was happy for him to stay there, Crowley himself had put up a couple of his colleagues for the last meeting that had been hosted at the reserve for exactly that reason, but for Eric to not even _warn_ him! He was treading on _very_ thin ice. Crowley shoved his phone back in his pocket and took the opportunity to run both hands through his hair, glaring up at the heavens.

_Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck._

He smoothed his hair down as best he could, leaving it down and securing the hair tie around his wrist, and headed back to the meeting room. Everyone turned to face him when he walked back in, and he gave his colleagues a quick half-hearted wave before heading over to Aziraphale.

"A miscommunication, apparently." _Shitshitshitshitshit._ "Are you sure you don't mind?"

"Of course not! Not at all! Right, would it be easiest for me to put my number into your phone?"

"Erm... yeah. Thanks,” Crowley mumbled, retrieving his phone once again and handing it over to Aziraphale. Their fingertips brushed together and Crowley really wasn’t sure he had the strength to endure that after the day he’d had, but it turned out he had little choice. The best course of action seemed to be to just try to ignore everything. Ignore the way his skin tingled when they touched. Ignore the way he was smiling when he should only be _beyond_ pissed off. Ignore the fluttering feeling in his gut at the thought of being alone with Aziraphale and actually _staying at his place_. And _definitely_ ignore the inappropriate fondness he was experiencing for Eric right now.

Crowley found himself facing a bit of a dilemma. Everyone knows the only way to recover from a mind numbingly boring, completely pointless two hour PowerPoint presentation from your obnoxious, arrogant COO is to get exceedingly drunk. However, in a few hours, Crowley would need to call Aziraphale and ask him to meet him. To take him back to his place. And for that, being exceedingly drunk would in fact just be an exceedingly bad idea, so he opted to refrain. The evening became less and less enjoyable as Crowley’s counterparts got more and more drunk, although one of them did do quite an amusing impression of Gabriel, but Crowley just couldn’t appreciate it in quite the same way without a higher concentration of alcohol in his blood. He headed out of the rowdy pub they’d ended up in and called Aziraphale.

“Hello, my dear!”

“Erm... hi.”

“Are you ready for me to come and collect you now?”

“Yeah... thanks.”

Crowley clenched his free hand into a fist. When Aziraphale had visited the reserve back in May, Crowley had had no trouble talking to him, but now he was finding it nearly impossible to even string two words coherently together.

“Wonderful, why don’t you send me a text message with details of where you are, and I’ll be there shortly?”

“Right. Yeah. Thanks.”

“No trouble at all, I’ll see you soon!” Aziraphale said cheerily, hanging up the phone.

Crowley’s heart _really_ needed to get a handle on itself. Surely it couldn’t beat this hard and fast for _too_ long without causing some kind of permanent damage? Crowley leaned back against the brick wall of the pub and drew in a deep breath. He was actually going to sleep at Aziraphale’s place. Or try to, anyway. They would have to actually _talk_ about stuff. It was going to be so incredibly awkward that it filled Crowley with dread, but it was getting harder to deny the other feelings that were also swirling around inside his chest. Yes, he would have to talk to Aziraphale, but on the other hand, he would _get to talk to Aziraphale_. He would have the chance to see where and how he lived, and to learn more about him.

Crowley glanced up to double-check the name of the pub on the sign, then found it online and sent the details to Aziraphale before retreating back inside to rejoin his very drunk colleagues. Fortunately, it was only fifteen minutes later when Aziraphale sent him a message to let him know he was outside. Crowley said goodbye to his colleagues, who were so rat-arsed they didn’t even seem to notice. Crowley envied them. He’d actually had some pretty good nights after these meetings in the past. His amorous encounter with the tree stump had been a highlight, although the scratches all over his face and neck had been hard to explain to people the following day.

Crowley found Aziraphale’s car pulled up right outside the pub and climbed in. It was _immaculate_. Aziraphale smiled in greeting and pulled back out onto the road, shifting gears at precisely the right moments, and keeping his hands in the ten and two o’clock positions on the steering wheel whenever possible. These were details that Crowley absolutely did not notice just because he was staring at Aziraphale’s hands. Absolutely not. Although praise be to someone, he did have _perfect_ hands.

“Have you had a pleasant evening?”

“Yeah, it was all right, thanks,” Crowley mumbled in response.

“Any interesting gossip from the other reserves?”

“Not particularly, no,” Crowley responded uncertainly, recognising that it was unusual. There was _always_ gossip at these things, which probably meant he just hadn’t been paying attention, and the reason for that was sitting right beside him, right hand sliding up to the top of the steering wheel while his left firmly grasped the gear stick as they approached a red light.

“How disappointing,” Aziraphale joked.

“I guess Gabriel’s PowerPoint just sucked the life out of everyone.”

“Well, I can understand that. Most people find that alcohol is the only cure, although, I must say, you don’t seem particularly drunk? Usually when colleagues from different reserves get together it involves _copious_ amounts of alcohol. The Visitor Centre Managers were here six months ago, and I must tell you there were _all sorts_ of rumours going around about Gabriel and your lovely Bee. Apparently, they both disappeared from the pub, and when someone realised the cue ball had disappeared from the pool table at the same time, there was a rather interesting suggestion that...”

Crowley couldn’t help but appreciate the adorable way Aziraphale’s face lit up as he began to share this juicy story, but Crowley grimaced and didn’t think he could face it, waving his hands around in front of him.

“I don’t think I want to hear the end of this story. I already had to listen to Gabriel for two hours today, the last thing I need is to have nightmares involving him and... Bee.” Crowley shuddered and scrunched his face up, fighting against the image that tried to conjure itself in his mind.

“Fair enough,” Aziraphale chuckled. “If you do have nightmares tonight you shall have to come and find me. I’ve worked in the same building as Gabriel for far too long not to come up with successful ways of coping with the nightmares.”

He was joking, and Crowley _knew_ he was joking, but still, Crowley’s treacherous mind supplied him with an image of waking Aziraphale, telling him he’d had a nightmare and then crawling into bed with him, which was extremely unhelpful and needed to stop _right now_. When Crowley didn’t respond, Aziraphale carried on talking, although he did change the subject.

“So, why don’t you tell me what’s been happening on the reserve?”

At least this was a topic Crowley should be able to talk about without needing to engage his brain too much.

“We’ve had some great stuff recently! Migrating ducks have started arriving, we’ve got shovelers, pintails and pochards already, and some of the waders. Even had a whimbrel for a couple of days on passage. The leaves are starting to turn, it all looks great.”

“That sounds wonderful, I do hope I’m able to visit again sometime. Has the money been useful, from the sponsorship?”

“Oh, hell yes! Absolutely! Eric and I got the hibernaculum done so there’s stuff moving in already now for the winter, and most of the projects should be done by spring, it’s going to be great! Have you seen the plans for the education zone?” Crowley rambled excitedly.

“No, that’ll be with Reserve Developments at the moment. In Marketing we tend to only see things later, once there’s something definitive to actually _market_ , as it were. Although, if you have a copy of the plans you’d be happy to send me, I’d love to see them.”

“Oh God, yeah, of course! I’ll send it you when I get back,” Crowley promised, feeling like an idiot for not having already done so. Aziraphale turned his attention away from the road ever-so briefly to offer Crowley a grateful smile, and Crowley felt himself melt into his seat. He watched Aziraphale for a moment, and a horrifying thought occurred to him. Through all his efforts to filter what he’d said to Aziraphale over the past few months to hide his feelings and avoid saying something inappropriate that would make Aziraphale feel uncomfortable, had he actually taken it too far? He thought back to what Eric had said on the phone. Had he ever actually said anything nice to Aziraphale at all? “Hang on a minute... have I ever actually thanked you for all this?”

Aziraphale’s brow furrowed contemplatively. “I’m really not sure, but there’s no need to thank me, dear boy, I was just doing my job.”

“Yeah, but there are lots of different ways you could have _done your job_.”

Aziraphale took a deep breath but didn’t remove his eyes from the road. Nor did he say anything, and Crowley soon realised that he still hadn’t _actually_ said thank you. For some reason, rehearsing those simple words in his mind had caused his pulse to quicken even more than it already had from his proximity to Aziraphale.

“Thank you, Aziraphale,” Crowley murmured sincerely. Aziraphale smiled and nodded, his eyes still trained firmly ahead.

“It was my absolute pleasure,” he responded softly, inducing a warm glow deep in Crowley’s chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember, when I say slow, I mean slooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooow, but Crowley's made a tiny bit of progress here.... I think... ;-) But how will he cope when they actually get back to Aziraphale's place? ;-)


	8. A Special Occasion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley enjoy some cocoa together in Aziraphale's flat.

“Here we are,” Aziraphale announced quietly when they reached the front door to his flat. He’d remained silent since they’d entered the building and had practically crept up the stairs, presumably to avoid disturbing the neighbours, which Crowley found far too endearing. “Come on in, make yourself at home.”

Aziraphale led him into the kitchen/living room/dining room, and Crowley stood awkwardly somewhere in the middle, not really sure what to do. The only comfortable surface for sitting on was the sofa, which had been covered with blankets, presumably Crowley’s bed for the night. There was a small table, but would it be weird to sit there? Crowley couldn’t decide, so he just ended up staying where he was, casting his eyes around the room.

The flat was tiny, as to be expected given property prices in London, but it appeared even more so from how crammed it was with furniture, particularly bookshelves, each and every one of them packed full, to the extent that books had spilled over onto the floor. Crowley decided that he liked it. It was cosy.

“Can I get you anything?” Aziraphale offered. “I usually have a nice cup of hot cocoa before bed.”

That thought did things to Crowley that it really shouldn’t have done. What could he _possibly_ find so appealing about the simple idea of Aziraphale drinking cocoa? He was forced to admit that it was probably because it, just like Aziraphale’s flat and Aziraphale himself, felt like something cosy and comfortable. It brought to mind images of snuggling under blankets on a cold autumn evening while a storm raged outside, which hadn’t been something Crowley had particularly considered wanting until now.

“That sounds great,” Crowley managed, still standing awkwardly, wondering whether he should follow Aziraphale towards the kitchen side of the room.

“Do have a seat,” Aziraphale said brightly as he opened the fridge to retrieve the milk. “Or were you hoping to take your cocoa to bed? You must be tired after travelling, and all of those PowerPoints of course,” he continued as he set the milk on the stove to heat. “Why don’t I show you the bedroom?”

Crowley’s eyebrows knitted together and he glanced down towards the sofa.

“You didn’t think I’d have you sleeping on the sofa, did you? You’re my guest! Come on, it’s right this way.”

Crowley followed Aziraphale back out into the entryway that was barely big enough for the two of them to stand in. There were only two other doors, the one that turned out to be the bedroom, the other presumably the bathroom.

Aziraphale’s bedroom was also small and almost as full of books as the other room, with a double bed surprisingly covered by a duvet patterned with embroidered leaves. Crowley had expected tartan. Although, Aziraphale might indeed prefer a tartan duvet cover and might simply have changed it for something he thought _Crowley_ would appreciate more. Once again, Crowley knew that couldn’t be true, but he let the thought take up residence in his mind long enough to enjoy the gentle fluttering it elicited in his stomach.

“Are you sure about this? I really don’t mind sleeping on the sofa.”

“Of course not, I won’t hear another word about it. Travelling is very draining, you need a proper night’s sleep. Why don’t you get settled and I’ll bring your cocoa in here for you?”

Crowley cursed himself for somehow giving Aziraphale the impression he wanted to go straight to bed, but what could he say now? _Actually, I’d like to stay up and spend time with you? I’ve missed you? I think you’re incredible and I’ve barely stopped thinking about you since you left the reserve in May?_

Before Crowley could even think of something he might _actually_ say, Aziraphale had already left the room, so he just sighed heavily and flopped down onto the bed. He stared blankly at the wall for a moment before bending down to take off his shoes. He pulled his hair loose and ran his hands through it, and tugged off his tie. That was certainly one of the worst things about these meetings, especially at HQ, the expectation to dress _smartly_. He groaned and rolled his shoulders as he undid the top button of his shirt. In fairness, he really was tired. He could always speak to Aziraphale over breakfast.

Now _there_ was a thought.

Crowley stretched his arms over his head, cracking his back, and unzipped his bag, rummaging around and withdrawing the old T shirt he’d brought to sleep in. If he’d realised ( _thank you so much Eric you little shit_ ) he wasn’t going to be entirely alone in a hotel room he might have brought actual pyjamas. It was fine though, it wasn’t like Aziraphale was going to see him in it.

“Here you go,” Aziraphale said as he stepped back into the room, holding a cup of cocoa out towards Crowley. He adjusted his grip to allow Crowley to take the mug by the handle.

“Thanks.” Crowley placed the mug down on a coaster on the bedside table (the presence of which only served to fill Crowley’s mind with images of Aziraphale snuggled up in bed drinking cocoa and reading a book and _oh my God I’m in Aziraphale’s bedroom_ ). Aziraphale smiled awkwardly and fidgeted with his hands, his gaze drifting over Crowley for a moment, leaving Crowley feeling flustered and eager to unbutton this rest of his shirt in an attempt to escape the heat building inside of him. Probably not appropriate with Aziraphale in the room. He swallowed thickly.

“Well, goodnight, then. I hope you sleep well. I’ve left a towel in the bathroom for you, it’s the red one.”

Once again, Crowley was aware of his complete ineptitude when it came to expressing an appropriate level of gratitude towards Aziraphale. He’d stayed up late to pick up Crowley from the pub, was letting him stay at his place to save money from the reserve’s budget, he was letting him sleep _in his bed_ , he’d brought him cocoa... Crowley was so overwhelmed it left him speechless, but that really wasn’t good enough. How could he have judged Aziraphale so unfairly when they’d first met? Imagine what those few days they had together could have been like if Crowley had only realised how blessed he was to be spending so much time with an actual angel.

Crowley was overcome with a desperate urge to give Aziraphale a hug. Could he do that? It would be weird, right? _Would_ it be weird? He’d been known to hug colleagues before. Well, not anyone at the reserve, could you imagine giving _Hastur_ a hug? But after the RM meetings it was quite normal... that is to say, _one_ of the other RMs tended to give him a quick goodbye hug at the end, although she always hugged everybody, but still, that set a precedent, didn’t it?

Crowley opted to attempt to say some more words to buy himself time to continue debating this point with himself.

“Thanks for everything, Aziraphale. You’ve been really generous.”

“Oh, not at all, it’s nothing. I’m happy to have you here.”

Crowley didn’t approve of Aziraphale dismissing his gratitude so easily. He couldn’t imagine what it was like for someone like Aziraphale to work in that office with people like Michael, under the ever-watchful eye of Gabriel. He felt quite sure that _they_ never said thank you to Aziraphale, that they probably had no idea how lucky they were to have him. It was that thought that spurred him on.

“It’s not _nothing_ , Aziraphale, come on. I’m really grateful. You’ve saved us a load of money for one thing, enough to keep the sheep fed for a few months when they come back to the paddock next spring. Oh, I didn’t tell you! They’re back on the island now, but guess who fell in the lake when we took them back over on the boat?”

“Given that smile on your face I’m going to assume it wasn’t you, so might I infer that it was Eric?”

“Yup! One of the sheep started panicking a bit when we were trying to get her onto the boat. He managed to get _her_ in fine but then he slipped off the jetty!” Crowley grinned. Served Eric right for his little scheme with Crowley’s accommodation for the night.

“Have _you_ ever fallen in?” Aziraphale asked, taking a step closer to Crowley and seeming to relax a little.

“Yeah, ‘course I have. Those wellies really are something, aren’t they?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I found them to be extremely comfortable and, I must say, rather stylish.”

Crowley cackled. ‘ _How could I have been so wrong?’_ echoed through his mind again and again.

“Hey, where’s your cocoa? Do you want to bring it here? Maybe we could sit and talk for a bit?” Crowley asked bravely.

“Oh...” Aziraphale glanced around himself as if expecting his cocoa to miraculously appear. “That would be lovely. Are you sure? I understand if you’re tired.”

“Neeeyeah, I’m a bit tired but I need to drink my cocoa, don’t I?”

Aziraphale’s cheeks rounded adorably as he smiled at Crowley and shuffled from the room to fetch his cocoa. Crowley took the opportunity to undo another button on his shirt. Maybe Aziraphale had switched the heating on or something because Crowley was definitely feeling hotter. What on Earth had he been thinking? A minute ago he’d been wondering whether it would be weird to hug Aziraphale (an issue that still hadn’t been resolved), but surely asking him to sit on the bed and drink cocoa with him was even weirder? Wasn’t it?

Crowley gave far too much thought to whether he should move his bag, which would have allowed Aziraphale to sit closer to him, but in the end decided against it. Aziraphale returned and perched primly on the end of the bed, cradling his cocoa in his hands. Crowley grinned when he saw the angel wings on his mug, and wondered whether Aziraphale had any idea how appropriate that was. Then he considered that the mug had almost certainly been a gift from someone who knew _exactly_ how appropriate it was, and his smile faded, obliterated by the power of inappropriate jealousy.

Aziraphale took a sip of his cocoa but didn’t say anything, and Crowley realised that as the one who had suggested that they talk, that responsibility fell to him.

“You wanna tell me what people think happened to the cue ball? I think I can handle it,” Crowley ventured. He still thought he’d rather not know what people had been speculating about Bee and Gabriel, but it was the only thing he could think of, and was pleased when it made Aziraphale chuckle softly.

“Oh, I’ve heard all sorts of theories,” Aziraphale grinned conspiratorially. “Some certainly don’t bear repeating just before you get into bed, but my favourite of those that I _am_ willing to repeat is that Bee simply threw it at Gabriel’s head.”

“Ha! Oh, I can see them doing that! I wonder if that’s true? They’ve gone up in my estimation if it is!”

“Unfortunately, there is little evidence to support it; Gabriel appeared quite unharmed the following day. I suspect that particular theory was simply born of wishful thinking.”

“So everyone thinks Gabriel’s a knob then?”

Aziraphale averted his eyes and replied, “Pretty much, yes.” Crowley recognised that must have been hard for him to say, he worked in _PR_ for fuck’s sake. When Aziraphale finally looked him in the eye, Crowley winked at him to indicate his approval of speaking ill of the COO, and Aziraphale immediately looked away again, staring at the cocoa in his lap.

Crowley took a rather large gulp of his own cocoa, ignoring how it burnt his tongue. Until he finished it he was going to have to keep coming up with things to say to Aziraphale, when all he could still really think about was hugging him. So much so that he was seriously leaning towards the idea of actually doing it.

“Do you have to see Gabriel much?” Crowley asked.

“Fortunately no. We do have more contact with his PA, Sandalphon, though, and to be honest he’s worse.”

“Worse?” Crowley asked incredulously, and Aziraphale’s expression became haunted, leaving Crowley wanting to kick some serious butt if he ever met this _Sandalphon_.

“I’d rather not think about it, if that’s all right? Perhaps you could tell me more about what’s happening on the reserve? You mentioned the ducks and the waders, has there been anything else of note?”

“Oh yeah, loads!” Crowley brightened up, even more so when he saw the tension drain from Aziraphale’s shoulders. “You liked the dragonflies, didn’t you? There’s still the odd common hawker around, and the common darters have started landing on the railings along the boardwalk. A few small tortoiseshell butterflies have moved into the shed to hibernate too. Fungi popping up everywhere now of course, we even had a nice big fly agaric and a perfect fairy ring. Hang on, I’ve got pictures.” Crowley shoved his bag out of the way so he could shuffle closer to Aziraphale and withdrew his phone from his pocket. Aziraphale closed the gap even further, and the temptation to reach out to him magnified.

Crowley opened up the photo of the fly agaric first, the stereotypical toadstool, bright red with white blotches, then flicked to the fairy ring, beaming proudly like a parent showing off a video of their baby’s first steps. He held his phone closer to Aziraphale, their shoulders brushing against each other. Crowley could feel his warmth even through the fabric of their clothes, and his grip on his phone tightened.

“Incredible! Oh, I’d love to see the reserve in autumn.”

“You should come,” Crowley blurted out without thinking. Aziraphale looked at him questioningly. “Tell them you need to meet with the people from Eden or something.”

“I... I don’t think they would authorise that,” Aziraphale said quietly.

“Just come for a visit then.”

_Fucking hell, I seriously need to calm down._ Crowley took another big gulp of cocoa.

“Hopefully I’ll be able to at some point.”

Crowley translated that from Marketing and PR speak to mean ‘that’s never going to happen’, realised that Aziraphale was only being polite when he’d said he’d love to see the reserve in autumn, and shrunk down into himself. Crowley knew he needed to back off, the last thing he wanted was to make Aziraphale feel uncomfortable. That probably meant he _shouldn’t_ hug him, right? _Right_?

“So what’s on the agenda for your meeting tomorrow?” Aziraphale asked politely.

“Haven’t looked that far ahead, to be honest. Although it shouldn’t just all be PowerPoints like today. We normally have a bit where we each get to share some of our biggest successes on our reserve from the past year, that’s always good. Normally pick up a few ideas.”

“I suspect you’ll have a great deal to share.”

“I was going to give an update about the sheep, we’re using a local breed now and they seem better suited to the conditions in the winter. Also gonna talk about all the stuff we’re going to be able to do with the sponsorship money, thanks to you.”

Crowley saw the colour rise in Aziraphale’s cheeks before he turned away. He really didn’t seem to be very good at accepting gratitude, and Crowley once again wondered whether he simply didn’t have much experience of doing so, which only made him want to thank Aziraphale even more to make up for it.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley prompted, tilting his head. Aziraphale turned back to him and flinched. Perhaps Crowley was looking at him a bit _too_ fondly.

“Crowley, I’ve told you, you really don’t need to thank me. My job was to find the right fit in terms of commercial sponsorship for the reserve. I’m glad it’s working out well.”

Aziraphale had tensed up again. Crowley was mortified. He’d asked Aziraphale to come and sit on the bed and drink cocoa with him, and then had probably spent the entire time staring at him like the heart-eyes emoji incarnate, unrelentingly thanking him. No wonder Aziraphale was tense! Crowley had to fix this.

“Yeah, all right, sorry. Honestly I’m just trying to make up for being a bit of a bastard when you came to the reserve. Shouldn’t have thought you’d end up being like Michael, that wasn’t fair. Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologise for, you were extremely generous with both your time and your knowledge and I was very grateful. Besides, I can understand you feeling on edge after what Michael did.”

Crowley nodded and drained the last of his cocoa. “Thanks.”

“Finished?” Aziraphale asked as he reached out and took the mug from Crowley, leaving Crowley realising he couldn’t really hug Aziraphale while he was holding two empty mugs of cocoa. Well, he could _try_ , but...

No, he had to stop thinking about this. He and Aziraphale were _colleagues_. Sitting on a bed together and hugging was not appropriate. Perhaps he could revisit this tomorrow, if he saw Aziraphale before he left at the end of the meeting. Then he could give him a quick hug goodbye, just like Sally from the Scotland reserve would with all the other RMs, and it wouldn’t be weird. Yes, that was a plan. Possibly.

“Thanks for the cocoa, it was great.”

“It’s from Fortnum and Mason. I’ve been saving it for a special occasion,” Aziraphale smiled. Crowley’s stomach flipped at the thought of Aziraphale considering him staying over a _special occasion_. Maybe he just didn’t get visitors very often.

“Well I’m glad you changed your mind and decided to share it with me,” was the ridiculous thing that came out of Crowley’s mouth. Aziraphale looked at him disapprovingly and sighed.

“Goodnight, Crowley. I do hope you sleep well.”

With that, Aziraphale rose from the bed, Crowley mumbling a quiet, “G’night,” after him. The door clicked closed behind Aziraphale, and Crowley collapsed back onto the bed.


	9. Day Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley wakes up in Aziraphale's bed and then endures day two of the RM meeting.

Bleary-eyed, Crowley dragged himself out of bed at 6.30am the following morning. He hadn’t had the best night’s sleep by any stretch of the imagination. At first, this had been down to the fact that he couldn’t stop thinking about Aziraphale: _I’m in Aziraphale’s bed, this is where Aziraphale sleeps, our shoulders brushed together, he gave me his fancy cocoa, he’s so fucking adorable, I hope I didn’t make him feel uncomfortable, I’m in Aziraphale’s bed, I’m in Aziraphale’s bed, his head has been on this pillow_ , and so on.

After over an hour of that, Crowley had decided he really need to make more of an effort to get to sleep if he wanted to stand any chance of being conscious for the meeting tomorrow. That’s when he’d become aware of the noise of the traffic, which had kept him awake for another hour or so before he finally managed to fall asleep. That same traffic had woken him again a little after six.

When his alarm had gone off, Crowley had yawned, groaned quietly, rolled over, smushed his face into the pillow ( _where Aziraphale’s head has actually been,_ remember) and nuzzled it one more time, and then finally clambered out of the bed. He picked up his toiletries and tip-toed across the carpet (for what _that_ was worth with the noise streaming in from the busy roads outside) and opened the bedroom door, hoping to sneak quietly into the bathroom, which _of course_ didn’t go according to plan.

As soon as Crowley stepped out of the bedroom, the bathroom door opened, and Aziraphale emerged, wearing... that’s right, what else, _tartan pyjamas_. This was vaguely ok, because _of course_ Aziraphale would be wearing tartan pyjamas, and at least he was covered up, although the pyjamas did look extremely cosy and like they might be extremely soft to touch, which was more than a little distracting. What was less ok was the fact that Crowley was certainly _not_ covered up. He was still wearing his baggy old black T shirt, his boxers, and nothing else. He was also painfully aware of what his hair tended to look like when he first got out of bed, and rubbing his head against Aziraphale’s pillow like a cat claiming ownership of it certainly couldn’t have helped.

“Hi,” he managed, his voice rough with sleep. Aziraphale took a deep breath, his eyes flicking up and down as he looked at Crowley, who wished he could just pretend this hadn’t happened and retreat back into the bedroom.

“Good morning,” Aziraphale said brightly.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise you were up,” Crowley mumbled.

“That’s all right, I hope I didn’t wake you?”

“How... I said I didn’t realise you were up.”

“Ah. Right. Of course.”

Ok now _this_ was awkward. Aziraphale looked flustered, and who could blame him? He deserved to be able to go to the bathroom in his own flat without being confronted by a semi-naked, dishevelled _idiot_ who quite possibly was becoming just a little bit obsessed with him.

_Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck._

“I’ll just...” Crowley began, jabbing his thumb behind him towards the bedroom door.

“Oh no, that’s quite all right, the bathroom’s all yours,” Aziraphale offered with a smile, scurrying off back into the living/dining/kitchen/library/everything room.

Crowley hurried into the bathroom and clenched his fists, dropping his head against them and squeezing his eyes shut. He took a few seconds and then finally looked in the mirror, unable to prevent a quiet, “Oh, fffff----" from escaping his lips as he took in his reflection. He sucked in a breath and gritted his teeth. He looked like hell.

He scratched at his scalp, fluffing his hair up even more in the process, and then switched on the shower, hoping it would wash away at least some of his embarrassment.

When Crowley finally joined Aziraphale in the everything room, it was after making a considerable effort to render himself presentable. He was once again wearing a shirt and tie, and although his hair was still drying, he’d swept it back away from his face and tied it up.

“Hello again,” Aziraphale greeted him with his usual gorgeous, genuine smile.

“Hi.”

Aziraphale was sat at the table with an empty plate in front of him, drinking a cup of tea, wearing his usual ensemble complete with tartan bowtie, which Crowley tried not to let remind him of the pyjamas (that Aziraphale usually wore in the very bed that Crowley had just slept in, by the way). Aziraphale had dismantled his makeshift bed, so Crowley saw no harm in flopping himself down on the sofa.

“Did you sleep well?” Aziraphale asked politely, and Crowley was torn about how to respond, not wanting to lie, but not wanting to admit the truth after Aziraphale had been so generous by letting him sleep in his bed. He ended up making a series of vaguely noncommittal noises at the back of his throat. “Did the traffic noise bother you?” Aziraphale inferred.

“’m not used to it.”

“Yes, I know. It was strange for me too when I visited your part of the country.”

“The owls keep you up did they?” Crowley mumbled, throwing his head back against the comfortable sofa cushion ( _where Aziraphale’s head has also been_ ).

“A bit,” Aziraphale chuckled, “and something making a weird shrieking noise.”

“Might still’ve been an owl. Different ones make different noises.”

“It sounded like it was being _tortured_.”

“Better than planes taking off every ten minutes.”

“Yes, I’ll have to agree with you on that one. Can I get you some breakfast?” Aziraphale asked, rising from the table and crossing over to the kitchen part of the room. “And perhaps some coffee?” he added, and although his back was turned, Crowley could hear the smirk in his voice. _Valid._

“Oh God, yes, coffee, please,” Crowley groaned, stretching and failing to suppress another yawn. He was tempted to curl up on the sofa for a while, but he was supposed to be making an effort to look _presentable_ , so he just closed his eyes and leaned back into the plush cushions. He heard Aziraphale chuckle, followed by the sound of the kettle being filled with water and clicking on.

“What about food?”

“Nah, it’s ok thanks, I don’t eat much in the mornings.” That was generally true, and he certainly didn’t feel like eating much after having had so little sleep, not to mention the after-effects of his mortifying encounter with Aziraphale earlier. He opened his eyes to see Aziraphale studying him with obvious concern. “There’ll be coffee and biscuits before the meeting starts.”

“Very well, if you’re sure.”

When Aziraphale brought over the coffee, Crowley accepted it gratefully and, as he took his first sip, silently thanked whoever had discovered caffeine. Aziraphale picked up his tea from the table and came to sit beside him on the sofa. Aziraphale was _actually_ sitting beside him again.

“Hopefully that will wake you up a bit,” Aziraphale said sympathetically. Crowley mumbled something that was unintelligible even to himself in response. “We’ll need to leave in about ten minutes. I assume you’re happy to take the underground?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Crowley replied, before devoting all of his attention to caffeinating himself. He’d been looking forward to having a little more time to speak to Aziraphale this morning, but he really needed his brain to wake up if he wanted to have any chance of saying anything even remotely intelligent. The chance might still be low, but he could hope, couldn't he?

Crowley crunched on a chocolate chip cookie and stared blankly at the third set of PowerPoint slides of the day. He couldn’t really have told you much of what the presentation was about, having been distracted all morning by thoughts of Aziraphale. Crowley wished they could have spent more time together. It wasn’t fair that when he _had_ been able to spend so much time with Aziraphale, back in the spring, he really hadn’t realised how precious that time was. He wished he could go back and time and experience it again. He would have kept bringing Aziraphale tea and making sure he was warm enough. He would have offered to take him out for dinner every night. He would have savoured every laugh, every smile, every moment of wonder as Crowley showed him something new on the reserve. This whole situation was so unfair.

The journey on the underground had inevitably resulted in them being jostled together on several occasions, and Crowley had just tried his best not to think about the fact that it was Aziraphale’s body pressed up against him in the cramped carriage, and although his brain had complied pretty well, not every part of his body was so obedient, in particular his poor aching heart.

Aziraphale had chatted happily with him as they walked from the tube station to the office, and Crowley had lapped up every minute of it. When they’d reached their destination, Aziraphale had seen him all the way to the meeting room and departed with a, “I’ll see you before you go,” which had delighted Crowley no end.

Crowley half tuned into the presentation (which turned out to be about conservation grazing, so he really should listen a little bit), but in the back of his mind he was trying to work out what he could do to have more contact with Aziraphale once this meeting was over and he returned to the reserve. They were friends now, right? _Were_ they friends? They were _work_ friends, at least, Crowley decided. Maybe he could just send Aziraphale random emails to keep in touch? If would certainly cheer him up when he had to spend time in the office with Bee, Hastur and Ligur if he had occasional emails from Aziraphale to look forward to. And he actually had Aziraphale’s mobile number now too, so maybe they could just start texting? That wouldn’t be a big deal, right? That’s something that friends should do?

Finally, they reached the only useful part of the entire meeting, and thankfully by this point Crowley had actually woken up a bit, and the detailed anecdotes and advice of the other Reserve Managers was enough to keep him focused. He even took notes. His own contribution to the session was also gratefully received, and one of the other RMs suggested some great resources for the new education zone. Crowley was actually glad this portion of the meeting had been scheduled to be last on the agenda, so he would leave on a high, feeling like the meeting had actually been somewhat productive.

Less positive was the fact that he hadn’t seen Aziraphale since they’d arrived at the office this morning, and now people were starting to talk about heading home. Crowley was just debating whether to text Aziraphale, or perhaps even call his office, when the man himself materialised in the doorway of the meeting room. Crowley’s heart soared, which was a completely disproportionate response. Crowley shoved back his chair and stood, then opted to perch on the bright white meeting table.

“All finished?” Aziraphale asked, crossing the room to join him.

“Yeah.”

“Was there a lot of PowerPoint?”

“Oh, yes.”

“I’m sorry to hear it. Did your presentation go well though?”

“S’not really a presentation, but yeah, it did, thanks. They’re thinking of doing something similar at two of the other reserves. We had a good chat.”

At that point, Sally the RM from Scotland came over and stood beside Aziraphale.

“Sorry to interrupt, I’ve got to get going. Lovely to see you again Crowley,” she beamed, reaching her arms up and pulling him into the anticipated hug. Crowley grinned and wrapped his arms around her. This happening in front of Aziraphale couldn’t have been more fortuitous. _Precedent_ indeed.

“You too, safe journey.”

“Thanks, and you. Send me that info about the sheep, will you?”

“Of course. Take care.”

“Bye.” Sally smiled at both of them and waved, then left the room. Aziraphale stepped slightly closer to Crowley, and Crowley let his eyes travel over Aziraphale’s torso, which he intended to have pressed against his own very shortly, and Aziraphale's arms, which he hoped would soon be wrapped around him, rather than hanging uncomfortably at his sides, or even worse, pushing him away.

“Do you need a lift to the station?” Aziraphale asked.

“Nah, thanks, Simon said he’ll drop me off,” Crowley replied, gesturing to one of his colleagues across the room, who was in the process of fastening up his coat. Not much time left. _Shit. I don’t want to say goodbye._

“Oh, all right then. Well, it really was lovely to see you again, Crowley.”

“Yeah, erm... thanks again for letting me stay.”

And now the moment had arrived. A quick hug, just like Sally had done. It was totally fine. Crowley pushed himself off the table, bringing himself close to Aziraphale, then heard an unfortunately familiar voice materialise in the doorway.

“Hello Anthony,” Michael greeted him cheerfully, and Crowley’s hands clenched into fists, which he hid behind his back. She crossed the room to join them.

“Michael.”

“I’d heard your lot were here. How’s the reserve?” she asked rhetorically. “The Wild Side has been a huge success, hasn’t it? 8% increase in overall visitor numbers and 23% from schools? I think we might need to consider constructing one at every site.”

Crowley’s face twitched in response. He decided it was pointless to mention the 6% decrease in the songbird populations, and was just trying to work out what he actually _could_ say in response when another figure appeared at his side.

“You ready, Crowley?” Simon asked, adjusting his rucksack on this back.

“Yeah, ready, thanks. Right, well, see you again,” Crowley mumbled towards Michael and Aziraphale.

“Goodbye Crowley,” Aziraphale said, while Michael simply gave him her standard false PR smile. Crowley tried not to let his shoulders slump as he followed Simon out of the premises and to his car. No hug. Crowley hadn’t thought he could resent Michael any more than he already had, but apparently such a thing was possible after all. Much more than resentment, however, Crowley felt a heavy weight in the middle of his chest that he suspected wouldn’t be dissipating any time soon.

_God, I miss him already._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How are they going to see each other again now??
> 
> I really do mean sloooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooow, sorry! ;-)


	10. Revisioning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale keep in touch after the RM meeting and start working on a new project together. The meaning of Gabriel's strategic plan becomes clearer.

Crowley leaned his head back against the headrest of his seat on the train (where Aziraphale’s head had _not_ been), sighed and closed his eyes. Maybe he could at least get some sleep on the journey. His phone vibrated in his pocket, and for a second he considered ignoring it before his curiosity got the better of him.

**[Aziraphale] It really was lovely to see you again. I do hope you have a pleasant journey home.**

Crowley was glad there was no one sitting next to him when he opened the message. His stomach went all wibbly and his face broke into a grin. He took a couple of deep breaths and bit his bottom lip. In that moment, he really did feel grateful to Eric. Staying at Aziraphale’s may not have gone as perfectly as it could have (it was impossible for Crowley to remember that moment outside the bathroom without cringing), but at least it had given Crowley the opportunity to spend more time with him, _and_ it was the only reason he had Aziraphale’s mobile number. And now Aziraphale was actually texting him.

**[Crowley] Thanks. Train left on time at least.**

_Go on, type it... do it..._

**[Crowley] It was lovely to see you again too.**

Crowley put his phone down in his lap and clutched his hands to his chest. His heart was beating wildly, and his breathing was coming in short, sharp gasps, which was a _completely_ disproportionate response to sending a text.

_This is ridiculous. I have to get over this. This is insane._

Crowley’s phone vibrated in his lap and made him jump.

**[Aziraphale] I’m sorry about Michael. We all want as many people as possible to come and enjoy the reserve, but I believe there are ways of achieving that goal without making such sacrifices.**

_Stop being perfect. Stop it, please, Aziraphale, you’re a fucking angel and you’re making it worse._

**[Aziraphale] I’ve actually had some ideas along those lines. I’ll send you an email.**

Aziraphale’s sincerity had Crowley feeling like someone had taken a cheese grater to his heart. He decided to try to use humour to steer their conversation in a less agonising direction.

**[Crowley] Don’t apologise for Michael, she’s an arsehole. Next time I see you remind me to tell you the gossip about her and Ligur and the back channels behind the lake. I’m not sure if it’s entirely true but it might give the Bee/Gabriel/cue ball story a run for its money.**

Yes, Crowley said ‘next time I see you’. There _would_ be a next time. There had to be.

**[Crowley] Which I still don’t want to hear by the way. Might fall asleep on the train and then wake up screaming or something, scare the other passengers.**

**[Crowley] And thanks, yeah send me an email.**

**[Aziraphale] I’m sorry you didn’t sleep well last night.**

**[Crowley] Not your fault.**

_Your bed’s very comfortable. Only thing that would have made it better is having you in there with me._

Crowley just _knew_ Aziraphale would give amazing cuddles. He glared at the back of the seat in front of him remembering how Michael’s appearance had prevented him from putting his plan to hug Aziraphale into action.

**[Aziraphale] I’ll let you try to get some sleep. You’ll have an email from me when you get into work tomorrow.**

**[Aziraphale] Set an alarm so you don’t miss your station!**

**[Crowley] Thanks :)**

Crowley didn’t set an alarm, because he now knew that he _wouldn’t_ actually sleep on the train. Instead, he stared out of the window for about five minutes and then started refreshing his work emails on his phone every thirty seconds or so until the email from Aziraphale appeared.

**Subject: Engaging children with nature**

**Dear Crowley,**

**Hope you made it back safely and managed to get a good night’s sleep! I’d like to explore the possibility of trying to increase visits to the reserve by families and schools by better communicating the value of children spending time outdoors in truly wild spaces. I’ve attached some research papers on this topic, I’d be interested in hearing your thoughts. I have the notes I made when I visited the reserve in May and I think a nice easy starting point might be to write up some seasonal wildlife highlights for the website to help showcase what the reserve really has to offer. Of course we already have the sightings bulletins, but I think we could convey more of the ‘story of the seasons’, as it were. Perhaps it would be easiest to explain this over the phone? Please do let me know when you’re available for me to call. I assume your mobile is best as you will be out on the reserve?**

**Warmest wishes,  
Aziraphale**

Crowley pulled the little table attached to the seat in front of him down and placed his phone on top of it, before resting his head in his hands. He wondered why Aziraphale hadn’t spoken to him about this last night. This morning he could understand, after all, he’d been barely conscious. Maybe Aziraphale just hadn’t wanted to talk about work too much when he was off the clock. Regardless of his motives, it meant that Crowley would be speaking to Aziraphale again much sooner than he could have hoped. He smiled to himself and spent the rest of the journey reading the papers Aziraphale had sent and writing ideas in his notebook.

Crowley resisted replying until the next morning so that Aziraphale wouldn’t know he’d read the email on the train.

**Re: Engaging children with nature**

**Hi Aziraphale,**

**This all sounds really great, call me whenever. I’ll be out on the reserve all day but I’ve got my mobile with me.**

**Thanks**

**Crowley**

When he’d sent it, Crowley had aimed to seem casual (rather than the more accurate _beside himself with excitement at the prospect of Aziraphale calling him_ ). This had seemed like a good idea at the time, but with hindsight, Crowley realised that it had been a mistake. It left him edgy and distracted all day, waiting for Aziraphale to call and having no idea when it might actually happen. It was like waiting for him to appear at the RM meeting all over again. Why hadn’t he just suggested a specific time? It’s not like Aziraphale would have read anything into _that_!

Eric asked him three times what was wrong before he finally gave up and just shot Crowley one of _those_ looks again.

“Are you angry with me?” Eric asked a little later.

“For that stunt you pulled with my _accommodations_ for the RM meeting?”

“Maybe?”

“No, but you should have told me.”

“Did something happen?”

“Such as?”

“Come on boss, you’ve been distracted all day.”

“Best not operate any heavy machinery then. I guess that leaves you to finish chainsawing all these logs. Get on with it.”

Eric winced but didn’t offer any verbal complaint. At that moment, Crowley’s pocket started vibrating, and his hand shot to it immediately.

“Is that Aziraphale?”

“ _What_? Why would you think it was Aziraphale?”

“You’re smiling,” Eric observed, and Crowley forced his face into a scowl (which was difficult, because his face really did want to keep smiling).

“Oh, you are on _very_ thin ice, Eric! Chainsaw, _now_! I have to take this.” Eric had the audacity to wink before he pulled the helmet on. He waited for Crowley to answer the phone and then pulled the cord, lowering the chainsaw onto one of the logs with a deafening roar. Crowley shot him a glare, jogging down the path to try to get away from the noise.

“Aziraphale, I’m so sorry about that,” he gasped.

“Are you all right?”

“Eric’s being a little shit.”

“I’m surprised to hear that, he seemed like a lovely young man when I met him. He certainly spoke very highly of you.”

“That’s actually what he said about you,” Crowley replied before his brain could fully engage. He grimaced and squeezed his eyes shut.

“I... oh. Well, yes, that’s fair. I hope you don’t mind.”

“’Course I don’t mind. Thanks.” The line went quiet for a moment. “So, I read all the stuff you sent,” Crowley continued, walking briskly to get further away from the noise of the chainsaw.

“And?”

“Brilliant. Love it.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. Kids in this country really spend less time outdoors than prisoners?”

“Apparently so, yes.”

“Fucking hell! Then yeah, let’s do it. What do you need from me?”

“I need to talk this over with the team here before I take it too far, I just wanted to check you’d be on board first. Though I see no reason why we couldn’t start developing the seasonal wildlife content for the website in the meantime. Would you be able to write something please? Maybe a profile for the reserve for each month?”

“I don’t mind but my writing’s shit, you’d have to do a hell of a lot of editing.”

“Well, then perhaps you could just talk to me about the wildlife, like you did back in May? I can take notes and write something from there. You spoke so passionately about everything; I’d love to try to capture that.”

Crowley finally ceased his frantic walking away from Eric and flopped himself down on the ground. It was cold and hard but he didn’t think he could trust himself to stay upright. Crowley moved the phone away from his face to take a deep breath without Aziraphale being able to hear it.

“Mmmyeah, all right.”

“Wonderful! If you have any good photos you could send on that would be marvellous as well. Eric was kind enough to send me a fantastic photo of an emperor dragonfly he said you took in the summer.”

Crowley closed his eyes and glared in the direction of Eric, even though there was a large stand of trees between them.

“Right. Yeah. I take loads of photos. I’ll sort some out.”

“Perfect, thank you. Then I suppose we just need to sort out a good time to discuss our first seasonal profile? It would make sense to start with November, I should be able to get something written and uploaded before then. When would be good for you?”

“Honestly, whenever. Just let me know in advance so I can make sure I’m not up to my knees in the lake or something.”

_So I don’t spend every moment of my time at work wondering if you’re about to call._

“I’ll draft up a schedule and send you an email. Oh, thank you so much, Crowley! I’m excited about this. I think we can make something really great.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“On another note, I’ve also been thinking about how I don’t want finances to be an obstacle when it comes to schools visiting the reserve, particularly given the findings of those papers I sent you. I’m going to start looking for another sponsor. It would have to be the right partner though. It might be a bit of a pipedream this one, but I’ll try.”

“Sounds great, thanks Aziraphale.”

“No, thank you, Crowley. I’ll speak to you soon.”

“Yeah, take care. Bye.”

Crowley hung up the phone and marched right back to where he’d left Eric, who unbeknownst to him would be spending the rest of the day alternating between repairing the worst possible stretch of the rotten boardwalk and bringing coffee and anything else Crowley decided he wanted to wherever he happened to be at any given time.

Crowley wrapped up warm and sat cross-legged on the ground right at the top of the reserve, in a tiny clearing amongst the brambles that even Eric didn’t know about, coffee in one hand and phone in the other, for the November conversation with Aziraphale (which actually took place in the last week of October, to give Aziraphale time to write something). Crowley talked about starling murmurations, sloes and hawthorn berries, overwintering ducks, large flocks of black-tailed godwits, and Aziraphale listened with interest, asking him lots of questions. Sitting alone, with just the sights and sounds of nature surrounding him and Aziraphale’s voice in his ear, to Crowley, this was like an exhilarating yet intimate moment. Crowley tried not to think about the fact that Aziraphale was sat in this office at HQ, surrounded by idiots like Michael, just doing his job.

When Crowley read what Aziraphale ended up writing on the website, he couldn’t help but be impressed. Aziraphale had taken Crowley’s ramblings and turned them into something succinct that actually sounded _good_. Actually not just good, he’d made the reserve sound _magical_. Aziraphale had also included some of the photos Crowley had sent him from last November, and a short video clip of a starling murmuration, including the breathtaking moment when the flock had bombed down into the reed bed.

Crowley opened his emails, wanting to send something to Aziraphale to praise him for the November reserve profile (although, as usual, he had no idea what he would actually say), when he saw he had a new message in his inbox. It was from Sandalphon on behalf of Gabriel, and had been sent to everyone in the organisation. Crowley’s eyes skimmed over it.

_Revisioning... key priorities... streamlining... focus... objectives... strategic alignment... unprecedented landscape... a lot happening... all good._

This was the third email like this Gabriel had written in the past two weeks. _Is he ever going to explain what the fuck any of this actually means?_ Crowley pulled his phone out of his pocket.

**[Crowley] Keep getting these all-staff emails about Gabriel’s revisioning thing and I still don’t understand what it is. I’ve asked everyone here and they’re all equally clueless. Bee’s being tight-lipped but I’m choosing not to read into that for the sake of my own sanity. Can you explain it?**

**[Aziraphale] Honestly, I’m afraid we still don’t really understand what he’s talking about either. I suspect perhaps even he doesn’t! ;-)**

_Don’t winky face me, Aziraphale. Don’t do that. That’s just cruel._

**[Crowley] Fair enough. If you figure it out, let us know would you?**

**[Aziraphale] Of course, but I wouldn’t hold your breath.**

**[Crowley] I won’t! November profile looks awesome by the way.**

Right, good, casual. Crowley could do casual. That _did_ sound casual, right?

**[Aziraphale] I’m so pleased you like it! You gave me plenty to work with. I’m looking forward to writing the one for December, I have some ideas to make it festive!**

Crowley snorted, he could just picture Aziraphale wiggling with excitement at the thought of ‘festive’ things. Why the fuck was that so adorable? It really shouldn’t be, should it?

**[Crowley] You can tell me all about it next week.**

**[Aziraphale] :-)**

Why? Why did a stupid smiley face make Crowley’s cheeks hurt from grinning and his heart ache like it was suspended in purgatory, unable to work out whether it was destined for heaven or hell?

A week later, at the time of their scheduled phone call to discuss the December profile, it was pouring down with rain, so Crowley couldn’t retreat to a distant corner of the reserve for privacy. So instead, he sent _Eric_ to a distant corner of the reserve (his punishment would not end for quite some time), so that he could hide in the shed and be guaranteed not to be disturbed. Since Eric had cleared it out, there was actually enough room to sit quite comfortably.

“Hello, Crowley.”

“Hey, Aziraphale! Right, hit me with your festiveness!” Crowley grinned to himself and tried to control it by biting down on his bottom lip. Aziraphale chuckled.

“You sound very enthusiastic, I wouldn’t have thought you’d be a hugely festive person,” Aziraphale teased. Crowley chided himself for not reining in his excitement, given that it was only rooted in the fact he was speaking to Aziraphale.

“’M not really. More into Halloween. Big spooky fan, me.”

“Oh, I’m sure. Did you get up to much at the weekend, then?”

_Does getting drunk alone and watching What We Do In The Shadows count?_

“Secret demonic deeds that I couldn’t possibly speak about,” Crowely equivocated. “How about you?”

“Oh yes! My nephew and niece turned me into a pirate!”

_Oh... wow. No. No! Don’t think about Aziraphale dressed like a pirate. Don’t think ab..._

“I’d’ve loved to have seen _that_! Do you have photos?”

 _What the fuck am I doing? What the actual fuck am I doing_? Perhaps Aziraphale was also wondering what the actual fuck Crowley was doing, as there was a definite pause before he responded.

“I think my sister took some. I don’t have them, but I could...”

“S’all right, I was just kidding. Anyway, Christmas?” Crowley managed, cringing to himself.

“Oh yes, right, well, I thought we could highlight some plants in the reserve that have traditional associations with Christmas? Perhaps provide some instructions for making wreaths? You also mentioned sloes for November, but I left them off the profile because I thought we could include them for December with a recipe for sloe gin. Will they still be good in December?”

“Yeah, good to get a frost on them,” Crowley croaked, his eyes squeezed shut as if that would somehow successfully banish his embarrassment.

“Perfect. Well then, why don’t you tell me all about the reserve in December?”

Crowley turned his face away from the phone, took a deep breath, and then launched into his pre-prepared spiel that he hoped Aziraphale would believe was spontaneous. The last thing Crowley needed was for Aziraphale to realise he’d spent hours thinking carefully about what he wanted to say. Though, it was just because he wanted the profiles on the website to show the reserve in the best possible light. It wasn’t because he wanted to make Aziraphale’s job as easy as possible. It _certainly_ wasn’t because he wanted to _impress_ Aziraphale. Aside from the fact that it was both of those things, of course.

A little over two weeks later, Crowley was repairing the perimeter fence where a horse had ploughed its way through it when he felt his phone vibrate. He withdrew it from his pocket, smiling when he saw Aziraphale’s name on the screen.

**[Aziraphale] Please may I call you?**

Crowley’s smile vanished. He furrowed his brow and stared at Aziraphale’s message for a moment. They had discussed the profile for February two days ago, and their next conversation wasn’t due until next week. Uneasiness crept up his spine.

**[Crowley] Yes of course.**

**[Aziraphale] Thank you. I just need to find somewhere quiet.**

**[Crowley] Everything ok?**

**[Aziraphale] Gabriel just came to speak to us. I know what his revisioning thing is about now.**

The uneasiness settled itself as something heavy in Crowley’s chest. He put down his tools and settled himself on the ground, staring anxiously at his phone and waiting for it to ring. When the screen lit up he swiped across to accept the call immediately and pressed the phone to his ear.

“Hey.”

“Crowley, hello, thank you so much for letting me call you.” Crowley tensed and clutched the phone more tightly. He’d never heard Aziraphale sound so unsettled before.

“Of course, any time.”

“Thank you. You know, you’re my best friend in this whole organisation.”

 _So he does think of us as friends!_ Crowley’s heart swelled for a moment, but he tried his best to ignore it. Why would Aziraphale be calling him and start off by saying something like that? Something was definitely wrong.

“What did Gabriel say?” Crowley asked, eager for Aziraphale to get to the point. Aziraphale swallowed audibly. “Aziraphale? What is it?” he continued softly.

“It’s the same as always. _Money_. More specifically that we don’t have enough of it. You know how he keeps going on about _key priorities_? Well, apparently that’s because we can’t afford anything else. He said they’ve been looking closely at expenditure, trying to work out what’s _superfluous_.”

Crowley’s heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice as he brain scrambled through all of the possible reasons why this news might have got Aziraphale so upset.

“The reserves are fine, don’t worry, that’s _core operation_ ,” Aziraphale kept mimicking Gabriel’s booming arrogant voice every time he quoted him. Crowley heard him sigh. “Gabriel said he was exploring _options_ for head office, that he’d be _scrutinising_ everything. He still didn’t just come out and say exactly what he means but he said there would be _reductions for the greater good_. He even talked about premises costs, but the only way to save money on premises is to move somewhere smaller isn’t it? If he no longer needed room for as many staff?”

“Not necessarily, maybe just somewhere cheaper. Somewhere with a leaky roof?” Crowley tried to lighten the mood, but his stomach was churning.

“Crowley, everyone hates me here.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“Well, _Gabriel_ certainly hates me ever since I cost us that deal with the company I told you about! I don’t know how I didn’t see this coming! Months of ambiguous presentations and emails full of indecipherable corporate speak directly translates to _redundancies_. I think I’m going to lose my job,” Aziraphale confessed sadly.

“Aziraphale...”

“I _love_ my job, Crowley,” Aziraphale sniffed. Crowley wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around him and tell him everything would be ok. He even considered hopping on a train to do exactly that. If he left now, he could make it there at a reasonable time, couldn’t he? Except he couldn’t, of course. He was being ridiculous.

“I know, it’s ok. It might not be that. Try not to assume the worst.”

“That’s easier said than done,” he sighed. Crowley could make out the sound of voices around him. “I’d better get back to the office. Thank you for talking to me.”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley began, searching for his courage, “I’m sure it’ll be fine. And you’re my best friend here too. Call me anytime you like, ok?”

“Thank you, Crowley. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that. Goodbye.”

Two days later, another all-staff email from Gabriel, via Sandalphon, arrived in Crowley’s inbox.

_Financial challenges... difficult decisions... consultations..._

_Blah blah blah get to the fucking point!_

Gabriel, however, seemed entirely incapable of getting to the fucking point.

**[Crowley] Just saw Gabriel’s email. How are you doing?**

**[Aziraphale] Not well, I’m afraid. Everyone is on edge. His latest email doesn’t really explain anything does it?**

**[Crowley] He mentioned consultations. Has anyone spoken to you?**

**[Aziraphale] Not yet.**

**[Crowley] That might be a good sign. Anything I can do to help?**

**[Crowley] I could ask Bee again if they know anything?**

Crowley kept his phone out on his desk for ten minutes, finally accepting that Aziraphale wasn’t going to respond immediately. He was _working_ , after all. Maybe that was something Crowley should think about doing. He ordered the replacement chain for one of the chainsaws, which was the reason he’d come into the office in the first place, filled in the expenditure spreadsheet and then pushed both palms down on his desk to force himself to stand up. There had been a storm the night before, and Crowley needed to meet a tree surveyor in half an hour to check everything was safe. Half an hour... that was enough time to go and hide in the hut and have lunch.

When Crowley arrived he met Eric, who was sat on the stump already halfway through his sandwich.

“Woah, what happened?”

Crowley rubbed his eyes and trudged past Eric to put the kettle on. “Fucking Gabriel.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

Crowley leaned back against the counter in the hut and his mobile vibrated in his pocket.

**[Aziraphale] Gabriel just came down to see us. He confirmed head office will be moving to “considerably smaller premises”.**

**[Aziraphale] He’s got Michael working on some PR initiative about it, communicating to our supporters that we are “focusing on what matters most to them” and that our change in premises will “release funds for vital conservation work”.**

**[Aziraphale] He said the new offices would only be able to accommodate around 50% of the current staff.**

“Fuck!” Crowley groaned, and Eric whipped his head round, looking at him with concern. Crowley locked eyes with him for a second, shook his head, then turned back to his phone, pressing the call button. Aziraphale didn’t answer.

**[Aziraphale] I’m sorry I can’t talk now. I’m hiding in a stationery cupboard.**

The fact that the HQ offices were fancy enough to include stationery cupboards large enough to hide in (the reserve’s stationery was kept in a drawer next to Ligur’s desk, and you risked losing your right arm if you tried to take anything from it) meant Gabriel was probably right in planning to move somewhere smaller. Crowley had often wondered what all of those random ‘executives’ at HQ actually did, and seven months ago the thought of head office losing staff would have been welcome news.

**[Crowley] They need to keep marketing staff though don’t they? We’ll make even less money otherwise.**

**[Aziraphale] They don’t need to keep all of us.**

What could Crowley possibly say to that? It was almost certainly true, and knowing that Aziraphale had managed to piss off Gabriel, this whole situation really was starting to feel completely hopeless.

Crowley’s heart weighed heavily in his chest. Crowley loved his job. He’d always loved his job, and he would continue to love his job for as long as he was able to do it. He would miss Aziraphale immensely if his speculations actually came true, but the ache he was experiencing wasn’t for what _he_ would lose, it was for what _Aziraphale_ would lose. Crowley was fairly certain he had never met anyone who was more deserving of happiness.

_I think I’m falling in love with him._

**[Crowley] Call me when you can?**

**[Aziraphale] I will.**

Both Crowley’s heart and his mind were racing. He wanted to tell Aziraphale just to quit, to hand his notice in before Gabriel could do anything to try to get rid of him. He wanted to say that they should just go off together, the two of them, set up their own reserve somewhere, _anywhere_ , but he knew that was stupid.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe, and didn’t even try to hide the distress on his face, although he only realised quite how distraught he must have actually looked when Eric walked over and pulled him into a hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is SO MUCH cuteness to come I promise! <3


	11. Christmas miracles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel's revisioning plan is implemented and Christmas comes around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prolonged angst? Here? Oh, I think perhaps you've got the wrong shop. Here begins the million light year freestyle dive into a pool of TOTAL FLUFF AND CUTENESS. The burn is still sloooooooooooooooooooooooooow but I'm sure you expected nothing else at this point!

Crowley had never been a particularly spiritual person, but he started to feel a little unsettled, like perhaps unwittingly through some cosmic law of attraction _he_ was actually responsible for all this. They do say, after all, that we unconsciously create the world around us.

Crowley had wanted to see head office move out of that fancy, expensive building with its ridiculous high ceilings and massive windows, and, in mid-December, that had finally happened. The staff made redundant had been given four weeks’ notice.

Crowley had also wanted the organisation to focus more on the reserves, and that wish had come true now as well. Gabriel’s next communication had talked about ‘decentralising’, ‘investment in our primary assets’ and a ‘grassroots approach’. They really were putting more money into the reserves. That’s what ‘revisioning’ had ended up meaning.

And Aziraphale...

Aziraphale was sat beside him on the big log in front of the hut, woolly hat on his head and tartan picnic blanket draped over his knees, eating a sandwich and talking about the reserve’s Christmas party between mouthfuls.

Crowley felt strangely powerful, and if it turned out he really did have the power to create and shape reality, then one day in the not too distant future he would be rewarded with the sight of Gabriel falling on his arse, and the thought of that filled him with joy. But not nearly so much joy as the fact that Aziraphale worked _here_ now.

Smaller premises for head office had turned out not to mean the loss of 50% of the staff. There _had_ been redundancies, but there had also been relocations. The restructure had involved dissolving the central Marketing and PR team and placing a Marketing Manager at each of the five reserves instead. HR had informed Gabriel that existing staff needed to be given the first opportunity to take up these positions, but Aziraphale was the only one who had done so, giving him free choice about where he would end up. No one else in the team had wanted to leave London.

This reserve wasn’t the closest, or the biggest, or (even Crowley could reluctantly admit) the most spectacular, and yet Aziraphale had asked to be placed here, and although Crowley suspected this had something to do with his greater degree of familiarity with it compared with the other reserves, he couldn’t help but hope it was at least a _little bit_ about the fact that he was here too. Because they were _friends_.

So, two months after they'd last seen each other, they were sitting together again, and Crowley couldn’t have been happier.

“Do you think the others would be up for some games?” Aziraphale suggested, continuing their discussion about the Christmas party.

“You mean like pool?” Crowley wiggled his eyebrows. “So I can keep making cue ball references and see if Bee flinches?”

Aziraphale laughed. “I was thinking of something more festive! Like... I don’t know, pin the nose on the reindeer or something.”

“You want to blindfold Ligur and set him loose with a sharp pointy object? Good luck coming through that unscathed!”

“Avalanche!” Aziraphale suggested excitedly instead.

“What’s that?”

“We’d throw beanbags at each other!”

“You’re making that up!” Crowley grinned, and Aziraphale laughed before taking another bite of his sandwich. “You know this lot are too boring for anything like that. We’ll just get drunk like we do every year until someone starts licking the walls and Bee insists we call it a night.”

“You know, we _could_ obtain a cue ball and leave it on their desk?”

“You wouldn’t dare! _Would_ you?”

“I have a ‘revisioning check-in’ with them tomorrow. Ask me after that.”

“Do you think Gabriel knows that revisioning isn’t actually a word?”

“Oh yes. He loves inventing all sorts of words, it makes him feel important.”

“God, what a wanker.”

“Quite. He _is_ the reason I’m here though, so I think I might be able to forgive him.”

“You really prefer being here? Even though you’re further from your family?”

“Further in distance, perhaps, but when you take into account getting out of London...”

“Hmm. Yeah.”

“I’m _much_ happier here. I was never a very good fit for head office, I’m afraid. Actually being down here, amongst it, in the real world of nature conservation, it’s so much more rewarding. And you’re here, of course,” Aziraphale said with a smile.

_Hnnngghggkk._

“Yeah, someone to blame if you get caught putting that cue ball on Bee’s desk.”

“Oh, you know I wouldn’t ever actually do it! I’ve never pulled a prank on anybody. It’s not in my nature.”

“Well, it’s in _mine_ and you really shouldn’t be putting ideas in my head!”

“If I see you doing anything suspicious I shall endeavour to thwart you before you get yourself into trouble.”

“Much appreciated,” Crowley chuckled, and Aziraphale smiled at him again. Aziraphale _always_ smiled at him, and for the sake of Crowley’s psychological wellbeing he _really_ needed to stop.

When the Christmas party came around, there weren’t any fun, festive games, much to Aziraphale’s disappointment. The team simply gathered in the meeting room and cracked open quite an extraordinary amount of alcohol.

Crowley had given far too much consideration to what to wear for the party, despite the fact he had to admit he had never actually given it _any_ thought in previous years. He’d decided on his smartest pair of black jeans (which also happened to be his _tightest_ pair of black jeans) and a black button-up shirt that was made out of some kind of weird shimmery material. He’d bought it new just for this, because it felt soft, and Aziraphale seemed to like soft things. What was the point in trying to deny anymore that everything he did resolved around Aziraphale in some way?

Aziraphale, of course, had opted to wear a hideous Christmas jumper (ok, not hideous, actually adorable, but it _shouldn’t_ be, it really, _really_ shouldn’t be), which was pale blue with a giant smiling avocado on it and the words ‘avo yourself a merry little Christmas’. It was fucking ridiculous. It looked comfy though, the kind of thing worn by someone who would give amazing hugs.

_Oh, don’t start this again._

The party had now been going on for three hours, and both Aziraphale and Crowley had been drinking solidly for... well, all of them. The two of them were sat together at the meeting room table, and ever since Bee had come to sit opposite them, Aziraphale and Crowley had been nudging each other in the side, trying to spur the other on to do something mischievous. Crowley eventually yielded and batted Aziraphale’s elbow away.

“I was going to play a game of pool the other night,” Crowley began innocently, glancing furtively at Bee. They didn’t give any indication they were even listening.

“Oh, really?” Aziraphale asked.

“Yeah, but I gave up in the end. The _cue_ was too long.” There was still no response from Bee, but Aziraphale started giggling.

“Good Lord!” he finally choked out. “That was terrible!”

“Then why are you laughing?” Crowley smirked.

Now both giggling, they locked eyes with each other, and a jolt of electricity shot through Crowley’s chest. Aziraphale held his gaze for a moment, and Crowley knew he should look away, for the sake of his heart and his sanity he really _should_ look away, but he really didn’t want to. Bee got up abruptly with a huff and disappeared from the meeting room out into the office, and Aziraphale collapsed into a fit of intense giggles, while Crowley looked on fondly.

Crowley caught Eric’s eye and beckoned him over to the table. “Eric! Hey, Eric, come here! Guess what? I was going to play pool the other night...”

“Crowley, stop it!” Aziraphale pleaded between giggles. He was _definitely_ drunk.

“Oh, cool, I’d be up for a game if you fancy it sometime,” Eric responded, clearly unaware he was being set up for a joke.

“No! Eric, no! No! The _cue_ was too long!” Ok, perhaps Crowley was a bit drunk too.

“Might be quieter after Christmas?” Eric suggested. Aziraphale was holding onto the table and looked like he was about to fall off his chair.

“Both of you stop! _Please_!”

“You guys really need to get it together,” Eric said, earning himself a glare from Crowley. Eric fluttered his eyelashes innocently. Aziraphale missed all of it, his head now resting on the table. “Where’s Bee gone?”

“Probably to get the sack.”

“Oh dear, what happened?” Aziraphale mumbled, lifting his head reluctantly from the table.

“The _Santa_ sack, Aziraphale. Secret Santa?” Crowley reminded him. God, he was so cute. People aren’t supposed to be this cute when they’re drunk, are they?

“Oh, right, of course. Who did you get?”

“It’s supposed to be a secret!”

“I got Dagon.”

“Fuck’s sake, Aziraphale! _Secret_!”

“I wanted you,” Aziraphale grumbled, flopping his head back down onto the table. He was _so_ drunk, and so was Crowley, and he feared he might even be too drunk to commit the sound of Aziraphale saying those three words to memory, no matter how much he might have wanted to. Surely the licking the walls portion of the evening was fast approaching.

Eric raised his bottle of beer in Crowley’s direction and raised his eyebrows. “You hear that, boss? He _wanted_ you.”

“I wanted _you_ , Eric. Would have wrapped up some razor blades and you’d have ripped yourself to pieces opening it.”

“Crowley that’s cruel,” Aziraphale informed the table. “I got Dagon a singing trout. She likes fish, right?”

“I have no fucking clue,” Crowley responded, rubbing his brow.

“Doesn’t matter because I got you a present anyway,” Aziraphale continued.

“He got you a present _anyway_ ,” Eric grinned, and Crowley kicked him hard under the table. His frustration with Eric fused with a flutter of excitement in his gut about what Aziraphale might have got for him. Crowley himself had spent far too long trying to decide whether or not to get a present for Aziraphale, having been blessed with _Hastur_ in the Secret Santa. He had agonised over the decision, but was now very relieved that in the end he’d decided to actually do it. The present was currently hidden in one of his desk drawers.

“If I’d got Bee,” Aziraphale continued, talking to himself, “I’d have got them a cue b---”

“Right, gather round you lot, Secret Santa time,” Bee announced unenthusiastically, the Santa sack (which got more chewed by mice every year it spent in the loft, and was now so threadbare that most of the presents were falling out of it) draped over their shoulder.

“Right on _cue_ ,” Crowley grinned. A few seconds passed before Aziraphale barked out a laugh, and Crowley smiled affectionately at him.

Bee handed out the presents and Aziraphale perked up, excited to open the parcel in his lap. Bee instructed them to open the presents one at a time. When Dagon opened hers, Aziraphale shouted, “It’s a fish!”, and she looked at him like he’d gone completely insane.

Hastur didn’t seem too impressed with his giant tub of gummy maggots, and Crowley tried very hard to keep the smirk off his face. He failed. His own present was a Best of Queen CD, which he thought might perhaps have come from Eric since it did tend to indicate someone who knew something about him and maybe even gave a little bit of a shit. That said, Crowley already had at least four Best of Queen albums in his glove box, not that Eric would know that, and it _is_ the thought that counts (and Hastur definitely made him think of maggots). Eric, randomly, received a pair of black bunny ears.

“Oh, is it my turn?” Aziraphale beamed, excitedly (but fastidiously) unwrapping his present. It was a very sparkly, glittery Christmas tree ornament. An angel. “Oh it’s lovely, thank you Santa!”

Crowley narrowed his eyes at the shimmering angel. _He_ hadn’t bought it, and from the look on Eric’s face (coupled with the fact he was fairly certain Eric had bought _his_ present) _he_ hadn’t either, which meant that the gift was intended to take the piss, but Aziraphale seemed pleased with it, so that was something.

Bee opened their present last.

“I hope it’s a cue ball,” Aziraphale whispered right in Crowley’s ear, clutching excitedly onto his arm. The feel of Aziraphale’s warm breath on his skin made Crowley shiver.

“S’not gonna be a cue ball!” Crowley hissed back, “Look at the size of the box!”

Crowley was right, of course. It actually turned out to be a Venus fly trap, which Crowley hoped Bee would put on their desk. More flies seemed to congregate there than Crowley even encountered out on the reserve.

“Right, back to drinking!” Bee instructed, and the team dispersed.

“Did _you_ get me my present, Crowley?”

“It’s supposed to be a secret, Aziraphale, but no, I got Hastur the maggots.”

“Oh, very clever! I would have got him a toilet roll. Because he smells like poo.”

“Ok, Aziraphale. Maybe stop drinking?”

“I’m fine, I don’t need to stop drinking.”

“Why did you think it was me?”

“Because it’s _nice_. I was expecting something horrible.”

“They’re just taking the piss.”

“I don’t mind being associated with an angel. How is that taking the piss?”

“Taking the piss out of _me_ , I mean. After you sorted out that deal with Eden, I _may_ have referred to you as an angel in the office,” Crowley admitted. Aziraphale stared at him for a moment with wide eyes and parted lips, then shuffled closer and leaned his head on Crowley’s shoulder. Paying far too much for a shirt made out of some weird soft mystery material had apparently paid off. Crowley desperately wanted to wrap his arm around Aziraphale, but was too aware of the close proximity of his colleagues. Hastur and Ligur were already smirking at him.

Despite the fact Aziraphale was drunk, Crowley was still moved by the fact he felt comfortable enough to lean on him. Maybe he _should_ put an arm around him. Fuck these bastards.

“That’s very sweet, Crowley, thank you,” Aziraphale murmured, turning his head and speaking into Crowley’s shirt. Crowley asked himself, when was there ever going to be a better opportunity than this? The alcohol certainly helped to encourage him, and Aziraphale probably wouldn’t even remember it, although Crowley wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or not. Still, he placed his palm tentatively in the middle of Aziraphale’s back, and his Christmas jumper felt warm and cosy under Crowley’s touch.

“Well, it’s true. Can’t believe what you did. You’re fucking amazing.”

Crowley could actually _feel_ Aziraphale smiling. Aziraphale shifted his head and nuzzled against Crowley’s shoulder. Crowley suddenly felt guilty for letting himself and Aziraphale become friends, _close_ friends, while all this time he’d hidden his feelings. If Aziraphale knew the way Crowley thought about him he might be horrified, and might very well change his mind about wanting to lean on Crowley’s shoulder, no matter how soft his stupid expensive shirt was.

Crowley was only human, he _had_ sometimes wondered whether he should tell Aziraphale how he felt, wondered whether there was a angel’s chance in hell that the affection Aziraphale demonstrated towards him might indicate the possibility of there being something more between them... But it was too late now, he couldn’t possibly risk it. They worked together, _properly_ together now, and it could end up being so awkward at work if Aziraphale rejected him. The right time to have done something would have been when they didn’t know each other that well yet, when Aziraphale visited the reserve back in May. Crowley should have turned back after leaving the hide beside the back channels and invited Aziraphale out to dinner. Now they were friends, and he wasn’t willing to risk Aziraphale’s friendship for anything. Crowley’s brain unhelpfully played out what _might_ have happened.

_“Aziraphale, sorry, I should have asked you this before. Will you let me buy you dinner tonight, since it’s your last night here?”_

_“Oh, thank you, but you don’t need to do that.”_

_“Please, I really want to. Please have dinner with me. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”_

“Crowley?” Aziraphale’s voice ruptured Crowley’s fantasy before he could get to the part where Aziraphale eagerly accepted his invitation.

“Yeah?”

“I work here now,” Aziraphale mumbled, as if only just realising it.

“I know, angel. It’s fucking brilliant.”

“Do you want your present?”

“Hell yeah!” Crowley grinned, and Aziraphale reluctantly lifted his head off Crowley’s shoulder and stood up.

“S’on my desk, hang on,” Aziraphale slurred. He stumbled back into the meeting room a few moments later with a piece of paper in his hand, which hadn’t been what Crowley was expecting. He reached out and took it, his breath catching in his throat when he saw what it was.

“Holy shit, Aziraphale...”

“Do you like it?”

Crowley was vaguely aware of his mouth moving, but he couldn’t actually speak. It was a sketch, the perforations down the side indicating it had been torn from Aziraphale’s notebook. It was a sketch of _Crowley_ , crouched down beside a child on the pond dipping platform, the two of them grinning at each other. Crowley’s hand was outstretched towards the child, and resting comfortably in his palm was a smooth newt. It was an amazing drawing, and Aziraphale had actually made him look _good_.

“I thought you were just taking notes,” Crowley said.

_Fucking hell how is **that** the right response? What **is** the right response to this? _

“This is absolutely incredible! I love it! I absolutely love it! I’m gonna frame it!” Crowley beamed.

“Don’t be silly.”

“I’m serious. You’re so fucking talented,” Crowley gushed, gazing at the picture. Aziraphale blushed and peered down at his shoes. Crowley drew the corner of his lip into his mouth. “I got you a present too. Feels shit now though.”

“You got me a present?” Aziraphale’s eyes lit up and Crowley pleaded with himself to hold back the tears that threatened to spill onto his cheeks. _I really need to sober up._

“Yeah, s’in my desk drawer.” Crowley left the meeting room, hoping for a moment alone to compose himself, but Aziraphale ended up following him. The office felt strange, the only light coming from the open door to the meeting room, and with all the computers switched off it was eerily silent, save for the drunken laughter coming from next door and the rhythmic drip of the water falling from the ceiling into the bucket. Crowley opened the drawer and withdrew the present he’d wrapped earlier for Aziraphale. “Here you go.”

Aziraphale grinned excitedly and carefully tore open the paper, revealing a book about British dragonflies.

“Crowley, I love it!”

Aziraphale lunged forward and captured Crowley in a tight, drunken hug. It felt more amazing than Crowley could ever have imagined, and that Christmas jumper really was _incredibly_ snugly. Crowley squeezed him tightly in return, and they stayed like that for a while, Crowley resisting the urge he felt to run his hands over Aziraphale’s back and to slide them up into those candyfloss curls.

_I love you, Aziraphale. That’s crazy right? But I do. I love you so much._

“Happy Christmas, angel,” he murmured into Aziraphale’s ear. “Next year I’ll take you out onto the reserve and make sure you get to see all of the dragonflies. Not all the ones in the book, obviously, I mean the 21 species we actually get here.”

“Crowley, I would love that!”

Aziraphale drew back slightly but kept his hands resting lightly on Crowley’s waist. Crowley had been thinking about hugging Aziraphale for months, and it had actually happened, and it had been fucking incredible, but his drunken brain and body immediately moved on and began unhelpfully suggesting that he should now kiss him. It was a completely ridiculous notion, and no amount of alcohol would have been able to change that, but as they stood there, gazing at each other in the soft light, Crowley allowed himself to at least dream about it for a moment.

“Stop licking the waaaaallzzzz!” Bee’s voice boomed from the other room, disrupting their intimate moment. Aziraphale jumped and released his grip on Crowley, then doubled over in another fit of giggles. Crowley smiled at him fondly and placed a hand on his upper back, just below the collar of his jumper.

“And _there_ it is,” Crowley chuckled. “I think you’ll find that _that’s_ our _cue_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Versions of that Christmas jumper exist btw. I imagine a conversation between Eric and Aziraphale about where he got it. ;-)


	12. The Cue Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens with regards the cue ball, Aziraphale and Crowley have fun in the snow, and Crowley makes a brave decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw - bird flu (just a quick mention and everything's ok)

On an icy day in mid-January, Crowley shoved open the door to the office and sauntered inside. Aziraphale turned his head and caught his eye. Crowley mouthed ‘I’ve been summoned’, relishing the amusement that spread over Aziraphale’s features, before traipsing over to Bee’s desk behind the partition. When Bee swivelled around on their chair, Crowley was tempted to give a theatrical bow, but managed to restrain himself.

“There’s been a case of bird flu on a farm in the county. I need you to check through all the kit and run a shutdown drill with everyone, and keep an eye out for any birds that look sick.”

“Yeah. Ok,” Crowley said simply. It wasn’t the first time this had happened.

“We’ve just had an updated protocol from HQ,” Bee continued, pointing to the stack of paper on the printer, unsubtly suggesting that Crowley fetch it. When he handed it over, Bee separated the pages into two piles, then opened their desk drawer, retrieved the stapler and stapled each pile together. Bee handed one of the piles to Crowley, and may also have said some other things, but Crowley’s brain had frozen the moment they had opened the drawer. He bit down on his gum, nodded emphatically, and, not trusting himself to speak, retreated to his own desk as quickly as possible.

Crowley grabbed a post-it note, scrawled MEET ME FOR LUNCH AT THE HUT 1PM IT’S VERY IMPORTANT, and rushed out of the office, sticking his note to Aziraphale’s monitor as he walked past without saying a word.

Crowley’s legs were jiggling up and down as he sat on the stump waiting for Aziraphale. As soon as he saw him appear from around the corner, he started calling his name and beckoning him towards him with his hands like an excited child.

“Aziraphale! Come here! Come on!” he grinned. Aziraphale had initially approached with a look of concern, but this had morphed into something more like curiosity in response to Crowley’s uncharacteristic demeanour.

“It’s absolutely freezing out here! What is it? You said it was important? Is it about the case of bird flu? Bee just had a word with me as well. They expect we’ll receive some telephone calls...”

“No. Stop talking. This is important. Aziraphale,” Crowley managed to get out, holding his hands up as if Aziraphale was the one who needed to calm down. Crowley clenched his fists and grinned widely at Aziraphale as he finally blurted it out. “Beehasthecueballintheirtopdeskdrawer!”

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Bee. Has. The _cue ball_. In their top desk drawer.”

“You’re joking?”

Crowley shook his head frantically. “Nope. I’m deadly serious. They went in there for the stapler, and there it was! Just sitting there!”

“I don’t believe you!” Aziraphale chuckled.

“Aziraphale, would I lie to you? I swear it was actually in there! I can’t believe we’ve solved the mystery!”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that. The mystery is only _partially_ solved. We only know where the cue ball _is_ , not _why_ it’s there,” Aziraphale gave him a conspiratorial smile.

“I reckon Gabriel gave it to them as a token of esteem.” Crowley held one hand out towards Aziraphale, put his other hand over his heart and bowed. “Take this cue ball, it is unique and one of a kind on the pool table, just like you.”

“That’s actually a very lovely sentiment, I had no idea you were so romantic,” Aziraphale teased, and Crowley squirmed. “Perhaps I should get _Gabriel_ a cue ball...” Aziraphale continued, and Crowley’s eyes widened with horror. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean... oh good heavens no! _My_ sentiment would be ‘I’d like to hit you very hard with a big stick, so hard that your balls...’”

Crowley raised his hands to stop Aziraphale from delivering the end of that sentence.

“Right, woah, stop, please! That’s an image I _don’t_ need, thank you!” Crowley spluttered, and Aziraphale laughed.

“Fair enough,” Aziraphale chuckled, then he visibly shivered. “How are you not freezing?”

“I probably am really, I don’t know, I was too excited!”

“Well, now that you’ve shared your exciting news do you think we might have lunch back in the centre?”

“Yeah, ‘k, come on,” Crowley relented, rising from the stump and realising that his arse was in fact practically an ice cube. _Cube. Like cueb-all._ _Hehehehe._

As it has already been noted, Crowley loved his job. Crowley had always loved his job. However, now that Aziraphale was working at the reserve, Crowley _really_ loved his job. They had lunch together every day, and the more they talked, and the more Crowley learnt about Aziraphale, the more pointless it became to try to deny that he loved him. Crowley didn’t think he’d ever met someone so pure and wonderful before, which isn’t to say Aziraphale didn’t have a bastard streak in him, he absolutely did, but that just made Crowley love him even more.

**[Aziraphale] Look out the window!**

**[Crowley] Aziraphale it’s 6am**

**[Aziraphale] I know, we need to act fast!**

Crowley shuffled up in bed and dragged his fingers through his hair. He groaned and rubbed his eyes, climbing out of bed and peeking his head around the curtains.

**[Crowley] Snow**

**[Aziraphale] Yes!**

**[Crowley] 6am Aziraphale**

**[Aziraphale] But we have to get into work before Bee does!**

**[Crowley] Why?**

**[Aziraphale] So we can make a giant snow cue ball outside the window next to their desk!**

Crowley pictured Aziraphale sitting on his bed in his tartan pyjamas, wiggling with excitement at the prospect of carrying out this distinctly non-angelic scheme. Crowley could in fact picture this very well, having not only seen Aziraphale in his tartan pyjamas, but also his bedroom in the little cottage he was renting when he'd helped him to move in last month. It may have been small for a cottage but it was much bigger than Aziraphale’s tiny flat in London.

**[Crowley] I thought you said it wasn’t in your nature to pull pranks on people. Thought you were the one supposed to be thwarting me?**

**[Aziraphale] It’s not a prank! I’m going to make a snowman, Crowley, there’s nothing unusual about that. I just suspect I might get rather cold and tired after I’ve made the body and therefore, unfortunately, I might not be able to finish it. ;-)**

**[Crowley] To think I called you an angel!**

**[Aziraphale] Yes we could make snow angels!**

**[Crowley] Wet and cold.**

**[Aziraphale] Bring a change of clothes.**

**[Aziraphale] Please Crowley? Meet me by the gate in an hour?**

**[Crowley] Yes ok. You owe me.**

**[Aziraphale] <3**

When Crowley realised his thumb was caressing the screen of his phone where it displayed that little heart, there seemed little point in denying that Aziraphale had definitely made him soft. He threw open the curtains fully and looked out at the snow (which he would normally consider to be an enormous pain in the arse) with fondness, smiling to himself as he thought again of Aziraphale, so excited and mischievous. The snow sparkled with promise, although maybe it didn’t really, because Crowley would never, ever, _ever_ think such a thing.

An hour later he was wrapped up warm, with a change of clothes on the backseat of his car, letting Aziraphale into the reserve through the gate to the side of the visitor centre. They followed the path around the side of the building, coming to a stop outside the office window next to Bee’s desk. Aziraphale was grinning, and he looked absolutely adorable with his woolly hat and gloves on. Crowley dreamed (extremely unhelpfully) of playing with Aziraphale in the snow, then heading back to his cottage, stripping out of the wet upper layers of their clothes and cuddling together under a tartan blanket in front of the wood burning stove.

“How close to the window do you think we should make it?”

“This is your fiendish scheme; you get to make all the decisions.”

Aziraphale nodded thoughtfully as if they’d just been discussing a serious work project and began pacing around, examining the space from all angles. Crowley glanced down at the ground and pressed his lips together, trying to fight a smile.

_Fucking adorable._

“Here, I think!” Aziraphale announced, and began bending down to push the snow into a pile. Crowley joined him; they _were_ in this together, after all. They kept working until they were happy that they had created a near-enough perfect sphere, almost a metre across and glistening white. Aziraphale stepped back to admire their work and let out a little giggle of delight. Crowley bit his bottom lip. “Snow angels now?” Aziraphale suggested excitedly, turning his attention to Crowley.

“Yeah, all right, but not here. Let’s go out into the reserve,” Crowley suggested, not wanting anyone else to actually see their snow angels. Hastur would probably just kick and destroy them, and Aziraphale would be so disappointed. That’s right, you read that correctly, _Aziraphale_ would be disappointed.

They still had plenty of time before either of them needed to start work, so Crowley took Aziraphale to the meadow furthest away from the visitor centre. At this time of year the plants were low to the ground, and the meadow was covered with a thick blanket of snow.

“After you,” Crowley winked. Crowley liked to think that he could make Aziraphale blush by winking at him, but Aziraphale’s cheeks were already rosy from the cold, so there was really no way of being able to tell. Aziraphale jumped backwards onto the snow-covered meadow and carefully lowered himself down before lying back and quickly adopting a snow angel position. Crowley grinned, making sure he left enough distance between them before doing the same. Once Aziraphale had successfully clambered back onto the path, Crowley crouched in the clearing in the snow he had created and made a minor adjustment to his own angel, and then to Aziraphale’s.

“What are you doing?”

“Adding a halo,” Crowley smirked. Aziraphale smiled, until he took a few steps along the path to be able to see past Crowley and find out what he’d done to his own angel.

“Crowley!”

“I’m no angel, Aziraphale,” he laughed, jumping back onto the path and proudly admiring the horns he had added to his own snow angel. “Did you know demon horns are broken halos from when they fell from heaven?”

“No, I didn’t know that, but it makes a lot of sense,” Aziraphale responded contemplatively, and Crowley felt that rush of pride he always experienced whenever he was able to teach his clever angel something new (except he wouldn’t actually _admit_ to thinking of Aziraphale as _his angel_ ). “Well if you’re supposed to be a demon then I must say you’re not very good at it.”

“No?” Crowley asked, stepping closer to Aziraphale and tilting his head.

“No,” Aziraphale responded firmly, he too taking a few steps to decrease the distance between them, until they were closer to each other than two colleagues probably had any business standing. Crowley’s skin prickled and he felt a shiver run up his spine. Aziraphale reached out and squeezed his arm tenderly. “You are completely lovely, and you’re my best friend, and I don’t just mean at work, you know.”

Crowley’s arm tingled where Aziraphale’s hand rested on it, shooting tendrils of warmth up his arm and throughout his body. He swallowed, his mind racing.

_Colleagues don’t do this. Colleagues don’t meet at 7am to make snow angels with each other. Colleagues don’t stand this close, don’t touch each other with so much affection. Colleagues don’t do what we’ve been doing. What the fuck **have** we been doing?_

Up until this point, every thought Crowley had ever had about Aziraphale and how _he_ might feel had been like a tiny tile lost somewhere in a giant mosaic, that when Crowley stepped back from it, formed the clear message ‘we’re colleagues - it’s irrelevant’. Maybe it was time to pull up every single one of those tiles and see if Crowley could arrange them to form a new pattern, a new message. ‘I think he actually likes me, he’s perfect, maybe this could be something special’, perhaps?

Crowley seriously needed to consider this and to work out what he actually wanted to happen, because it was starting to feel like Aziraphale might have given it some thought himself. After all, **_colleagues do not do this_** , Crowley reminded himself.

Crowley had realised a few days after he’d first met Aziraphale that he was lovely, and so had somehow managed to always convince himself that all of the lovely things Aziraphale said and did were just somehow rooted in that inherent loveliness. It had nothing to do with _Crowley_ he’d told himself, over and over and over again, except they’d been working in the same place for long enough now for even Crowley to have to accept that wasn’t true. Aziraphale was polite, even kind, to everybody, but he was _different_ with Crowley, less restrained, more himself. Although that _was_ something to be expected of a _friend_ , Crowley considered, before reminding himself that this _friend_ was currently standing close enough that had Crowley wanted to kiss him, he would barely have needed to move, and that he was still squeezing Crowley’s arm.

Crowley had to do _something_ , but knew better than to do anything of consequence without giving himself chance to think about it properly. _This is ridiculous. I’ve had **months** to think about this. I’m an idiot._

So in the end, Crowley just smiled, mumbled, “you too,” and then pulled his phone out of his pocket, stepping away from Aziraphale to take a photo of the snow angel and demon. “Right, well I don’t know about you but I’m bloody freezing, let’s go and get changed,” Crowley suggested, already walking down the path back towards the centre. Aziraphale hurried to catch up with him.

“Send me the photo please.”

“Yeah, ‘course.”

“I’m going to make sure I’m in the office before Bee so I can see their face when they look out of the window!”

“You won’t be able to see, they’ve got that partition.”

“Well, perhaps I’ll need to pick up something from the printer.”

“What are you going to do, stand and wait by the printer until they come in?”

Aziraphale gave Crowley a look that told him that was _exactly_ what he was planning to do. Crowley couldn’t help but admire his dedication to his diabolical scheme.

“Bee always gets into the office before Hastur or Ligur; I can get away with it.”

“Careful, that halo of yours is starting to look a little fragile,” Crowley tried to tease, aware of the tension in his voice, which he tried to disguise as simply a result of the cold by wrapping his arms around himself and performing an exaggerated shiver.

A week later, nothing had changed, but at least Crowley had given himself the opportunity to _think_ about what to do, even if he hadn’t actually done anything. He and Aziraphale still had lunch together every day, and every time had been as wonderful as always, easily the highlight of Crowley’s days. On that first day, Aziraphale had giggled as he’d told Crowley about Bee’s reaction to the giant cue ball made of snow.

_“What izzz this? Did you do thizzzzz?” they demanded, whipping their head around to face Aziraphale, where he stood poised to pick up his printing. Aziraphale quickly realised that in the absence of anyone else in the office, he would have to admit responsibility._

_“Yes, I started making a snowman! I’ll finish it later, if you like?”_

“They didn’t really say anything to that, they just sort of buzzed at me and swatted me away, but later I saw them taking a photo of it. I think they were sending it to Gabriel!” Aziraphale had whispered with a cheeky grin, then his face had dropped and he’d pouted indignantly. “I bet they took the credit for making it and said they’d done it for him!”

And Crowley had wondered, despite all the jokes, what if there really _was_ something between Gabriel and Bee? What if colleagues _could_ be something more without it being weird? Scratch that, whatever Bee and Gabriel were, it was _definitely_ weird.

By now, a week later, the snow had melted, save for a slightly smaller version of the cue ball, which was hanging on in there, much to Aziraphale and Crowley’s amusement. All of Crowley’s thoughts had finally led him to a decision. He’d never been one to avoid taking risks before, and he felt that this time the odds were in his favour. All of Eric’s teasing seemed to have its roots in truth. Crowley was pretty sure Aziraphale _did_ like him in a more-than-a-friend kind of way, and if Crowley acted on that, then _yes_ , there was a chance things wouldn’t work out, but Aziraphale was wonderful, and he made Crowley want to be wonderful _for_ him, so he was sure they could make this work. Besides, he wasn’t sure he could face living with the regret he would experience if he allowed this opportunity to slip through his fingers.

That said, Crowley still hadn’t done anything about it. After all, how do you go about doing that? They had lunch together every day, what should Crowley do, just blurt it out at one of their lunches? Or wait until next month and leave a Valentine’s card on Aziraphale’s desk with a smiling avocado on it saying ‘You avo secret admirer?’. _Fucking **hell no**._

Crowley felt like he’d gone over every possibility in his mind. He considered calling Aziraphale at the weekend, when they were both away from work, but he didn’t like the idea of not being able to see his reaction. He even considered asking _Eric_ to talk to him, like they were children sending ‘I fancy you’ messages across the playground. He finally decided the best idea was to casually, at the end of one of their work days, mention that he’d decided to go out for dinner because he didn’t have any food in the house, and to ask Aziraphale if he’d like to come with him. Then he could talk to him at dinner. On Friday, he’d finally got up the courage to do just that, but Hastur had been in the office too when he’d popped in at the end of the day, and he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Hastur’s presence was nothing more than an excuse, and Crowley knew it. As he’d thought about actually saying the words he had rehearsed he had been physically trembling, barely able to walk straight, and would probably have been entirely unable to form a coherent sentence.

Now both he and Aziraphale were distracted and busy, and that provided Crowley with another excuse to delay actually doing anything. The reserve had received another special visitor, this time of the bird, rather than the human, variety. A lesser yellowlegs, a bird normally only found in the Americas, had apparently been blown rather considerably off course by a recent storm. Since the British media always loved stories that illustrated how horrendous the weather was (as if the British public weren’t already entirely aware of this fact), Aziraphale had written a press release about the arrival of the bird, and Crowley had secretly checked the online news outlets, reading all the stories about it with pride.

It was getting towards the end of the day, the sun already very low in the sky, and Crowley had just pointed another group of visitors in the direction of the unusual bird’s last known location when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

**[Aziraphale] Will you be coming back to the office before you go home?**

**[Crowley] Can do if you want me to?**

**[Aziraphale] Thank you! :-) I want to talk to you about something!**

That extremely frustrating wobbliness reasserted itself in Crowley’s legs. He took a deep breath and tried to steady himself, pressing a hand to his chest like he needed to stop his heart from leaping out of it. What if _Aziraphale_ was going to do it? What if _he_ was going to say something?

Even if he wasn’t, Crowley had made up his mind. This was it. Enough. This was as good an excuse as he was going to get. He’d go to see Aziraphale right at the end of the day, suggest they have their conversation in the meeting room (‘so as not to disturb anyone else in the office’), and then at the end, he would do it. Crowley would actually ask Aziraphale out to dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't written any of the last two chapters yet (except in my head) so there might be a little wait, sorry!! Thank you again for reading! :-)


	13. The Bank

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is going to do it. Really. He's going to ask Aziraphale out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me when you read the first sentence! ;-)

Crowley did _not_ end up asking Aziraphale out to dinner, and it wasn’t because Aziraphale beat him to it.

Unfortunately, what Aziraphale had wanted to talk to him about had left Crowley feeling so completely terrified that he had no capacity to endure the _further_ terror that would have been associated with following through with his plan.

“Hello Crowley!”

“Hey, Aziraphale. You wanted to talk to me about something?” Crowley asked, aiming to keep his voice as level as possible. The trembling was back, but Crowley had stuffed his hands as far as they would go into the tight pockets of his jeans to try to hide it.

“Yes, thank you for popping back to the office.”

“No problem,” Crowley mumbled, swallowing hard and finding the simple act of breathing unreasonably difficult. He glanced over at Hastur who was lurking in the corner by the printer, and Ligur, who was growling at his computer for some reason or other that wasn’t at all obvious. “Shall we go into the meeting room so we don’t disturb the others?”

“Oh I’m sure they won’t mind, it’ll only take a moment. It’s just about all this media interest we’ve been getting about the lesser yellowlegs. We’ve been asked for a television interview live on the local news tomorrow, just before the weather. Would you be happy to do that please, Crowley?”

Crowley’s brain froze completely. His body, perhaps trying to make up for it, started pumping an undeniably excessive amount of adrenaline into his blood. Crowley really wasn’t sure whether his heart could actually take being put through this. It thundered violently against his sternum and he drew in a deep breath, knowing it would be pretty ineffective at calming him but hoping it would at least take the edge off. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t work.

Crowley _never_ did interviews. There had been a few occasions in the past when the opportunity had presented itself, and he had always absolutely refused. So, technically, he shouldn’t be feeling so terrified, because he never did interviews, he _never_ did interviews, he **_never did interviews_** , so he wasn’t going to be doing this one either, was he?

Except it was Aziraphale asking, and he was looking at Crowley with those goddamned puppy dog eyes, and what Crowley was really afraid of was that he wouldn’t be able to say no to him.

“Nghhhhk.”

_Brilliant. Fucking brilliant. How have I never won awards for my eloquence?_

“Oh, please Crowley? _I_ could do it, but there’s no way I could speak about the birds and the reserve as passionately as you do! This could be a remarkable opportunity to promote how fantastic the reserve is and encourage people to visit!”

Crowley shook his head dumbly, and Aziraphale’s expression changed. He stood up and approached Crowley, looking at him the way you’d look at a kitten trying to find its way out after getting stuck under a blanket, mildly sympathetic but mostly just like he was something... _cute_. Crowley recoiled.

“Why don’t we pop into the meeting room after all?” Aziraphale suggested, leaning in close to Crowley, his voice so soft and low that it made Crowley shudder. This was the tone Aziraphale tended to adopt in Crowley’s fantasies, unfortunately Crowley found himself rather unable to appreciate it, as the tiny fraction of his mind that was still functioning was elsewhere.

_I can’t do this. I can’t do this. **I can’t do this**. _

_But I can’t let him down._

Aziraphale tenderly placed his hand on Crowley’s lower back, encouraging him towards the meeting room. How Crowley managed to keep breathing was nothing short of a miracle. They stepped inside and Aziraphale closed the door behind them. So, here they were, alone together in the meeting room just as Crowley had planned.

“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, Crowley.”

“I... ngk.”

“Crowley...” Aziraphale pulled out one of the chairs at the meeting table and gestured for him to take a seat. Crowley did so without objection, after all, his legs couldn’t realistically be expected to keep him standing for too much longer. He doubted the wisdom of his decision when Aziraphale took a seat right next to him, so close that their knees actually brushed against each other. Maybe Crowley had been wrong in thinking that Aziraphale actually liked him, since what he evidently truly wanted was to _kill him_. “I’d like to talk about this, but I really don’t want you to feel pressured to do it, all right?”

Crowley nodded, words apparently not a viable option just now.

“Have you ever been interviewed for television before?”

Crowley shook his head. _Oh, for fuck’s sake, I have to remember how to speak!_

“All right. What is it that’s concerning you? Is it because it will be live?”

“Doesn’t help,” Crowley managed.

“Live interviews are often better,” Aziraphale attempted to reassure him. “It’s quite rare that someone requests to re-record something even if it’s not done live, and the advantage is that you can say whatever you like, there’s not really anything they can do to stop you,” Aziraphale winked.

That’s right, Aziraphale fucking _winked_. Wow, this really had just been a long-term plot to commit murder all along, hadn’t it? All these months spent getting to know Crowley, getting him to trust him, just so Aziraphale could lure him into the meeting room and fucking _murder_ him with tenderness and puppy eyes and _winking_.

“Nggghhhh.”

“Everyone feels nervous before their first television interview, Crowley, but they’re normally very pleased to have done it afterwards.”

“Normally,” Crowley repeated, latching on to that part of what Aziraphale had said over everything else.

“Yes, normally. Is there anything you’d like to ask me?”

Crowley stared blankly at him. _‘Will you have dinner with me tonight?’_ no longer seemed appropriate, and unable to form any particularly coherent thoughts at the moment, Crowley simply shook his head.

“All right, would you like to think about it and let me know in the morning? The film crew will be here tomorrow afternoon, it’s for the one o’clock news. Or you can tell me you don’t want to do it now and forget all about it, it’s not a problem. I’m happy to do it if you don’t want to, Crowley, it’s fine,” Aziraphale reassured him, placing his hand on top of Crowley’s where it rested on the table and stroking his thumb over the back of Crowley’s hand.

_Nggggggggggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh._

Crowley forced himself not to look down at their joined hands (he could already feel the tingles shooting up his arm, he didn’t need to _look_ , that would only make it harder to pretend this wasn’t actually happening), and managed another nod.

“Yes? Yes you’d like to think about it?”

Crowley nodded again and grimaced. “Yeah.”

“Thank you, Crowley, I appreciate that. If you do decide to do it I’ll talk everything through with you beforehand and I’ll be as close as I can be the whole time.”

“Yeah. Right. Thanks.” Crowley took a deep breath and pulled his hand away from Aziraphale’s. His heart felt like it was going to explode and it only seemed fair, rather than continue to subject it to the effects of Aziraphale actually touching him, to protect it after it had spent his entire life keeping him alive. Crowley’s heart had _never_ had to work as hard as it had these past few months, and it _seriously_ deserved a break. “See you tomorrow.”

“All right, dear. Please don’t let it play on your mind. If you think of anything you’d like to ask me please feel free to text me. Have a nice evening.”

“Yeah you too,” Crowley mumbled, making a hasty exit from the meeting room and heading straight for the safety of his car.

Those eyes. Those damned gorgeous puppy dog eyes. Imagine what would happen if Aziraphale actually decided to turn on the world, become a super-villain and actually use them for malicious intent? He could do anything, have anything he wanted. Maybe he wasn’t even human. Maybe he had magical powers. There was no other explanation for what Crowley had just done.

He had taken Aziraphale’s advice (‘Remember to answer the question you want to answer, even if it’s not quite what they asked, and just keeping talking until you’ve said what you want to say’) and as a result had rambled on about anything and everything he had wanted to say about how brilliant the reserve was, until the camera was lowered and the staff from the television station had thanked him and immediately begun talking to each other about something else.

Shell-shocked, Crowley clenched his fists (it had taken an immense degree of self-control to refrain from doing so during the interview itself) and took slow, tentative steps away from the spot he had stood for the interview (which Aziraphale had chosen for the beautiful view behind him, ‘not that anyone will be looking at the view with _you_ in front of the camera’ _nggggggghhhhhhhhh_ ), to where Aziraphale was waiting for him. As promised, Aziraphale had stayed close by throughout, smiling at Crowley and nodding at him encouragingly. He was now beckoning Crowley closer to him, and as soon as Crowley’s feeble, wobbly steps brought him within reaching distance, Aziraphale pulled him into a hug.

“Oh, Crowley, well done, that was absolutely perfect! You did amazingly well! You _must_ be pleased!”

“I don’t think I remember what I said,” Crowley mumbled against Aziraphale’s neck.

“That’s normal,” Aziraphale chuckled. “You could always watch it back.”

“No! No way! That is _never_ going to happen!” Crowley protested, still holding on tightly to Aziraphale, his face pressed against his soft, warm neck. God, he felt absolutely incredible, and Crowley felt like this was exactly where he belonged, right here in Aziraphale’s arms.

“I’m proud of you,” Aziraphale whispered. Crowley lifted his head and leaned away slightly so he could properly look at Aziraphale. _Fuck_ , he really did look proud, and although Crowley felt like he could collapse at any moment, coming down as he was from the intensity of the terrifying experience he’d just endured, part of him thought that maybe this was it, maybe _this_ was the moment when Crowley should finally...

“Boss, that was brilliant!” Eric announced as he bounded down the path towards them, then he slowed down and took in the sight in front of him, Crowley and Aziraphale barely separated from their hug, standing with their arms wrapped lazily around each other. “Oh shit, sorry! _Shit_! I...”

“Eric, it’s fine,” Crowley croaked, cursing the way his voice wavered, wondering how long it would actually take to fully recover from an entire morning spent enduring intense fear topped off with an _actual hug_ from Aziraphale.

“No, I really didn’t mean to interrupt, I’ll just talk to you later,” Eric blustered, pointing vaguely behind himself as if he intended to just retreat back the way he’d come.

“I need to speak to the film crew anyway,” Aziraphale interjected, stepping back from Crowley. “Eric, please do keep telling Crowley what a remarkable job he did, I’m not entirely sure he believes me,” he chuckled, before turning back to Crowley. “Really Crowley, that was perfect. No one could have done better. Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome,” Crowley mumbled, and with one last beaming smile, Aziraphale walked over to the film crew, and Eric seemed to find the courage to advance towards Crowley. Crowley sighed heavily and rubbed his face. “Eric, I need to burn off all this...” Crowley began, flapping his arms around in front of himself.

“Nervous energy?”

“Yeah. I feel like I seriously need to chop some stuff up with a big chopping up machine. Come on.”

Crowley and Eric started walking along the path that would lead them to the shed to pick up the chainsaws, passing Aziraphale in the process, who felt the need to give Crowley one last proud smile.

“So you watched it then?” Crowley asked.

“Yeah, it really was fantastic! I bet we’ll get _thousands_ of people visiting this week now!”

“Yeah, right,” Crowley scoffed. “I just hope it was worth it.”

“You were awesome, boss.”

“I was fucking _terrified_!”

“I know, but I only know ‘cause you told me before, you honestly couldn’t tell, watching it,” Eric paused and they walked in a silence for a moment. “Still can’t believe you did that for him.”

“Nhhhyeeaahhh.”

“You love him, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do,” Crowley sighed. The exhaustion was setting in already. Still, at least Crowley had now actually admitted his feelings out loud to another human being. There wasn’t much point avoiding it, especially with Eric, who had apparently deduced how he felt about Aziraphale before he’d even realised himself.

“You gonna tell him?”

“Yep.”

“Really?” Eric questioned, eyebrow raised.

“ _Yes_. I was planning to ask him out to dinner last night actually, but then he asked me to do this and I turned into a fucking quivering wreck, didn’t I?”

“So you can just do it tonight instead. Celebrate your fantastic interview,” Eric suggested.

“Oh God no, not tonight. I’m gonna be fucking exhausted, I think my body produced about twelve litres of adrenaline this morning.”

“Seems unlikely, you only have about five litres of blood.”

“No blood right now, Eric, just adrenaline,” Crowley corrected.

“Adrenaline and whatever it is that makes you feel _loooove_ ,” Eric teased, and Crowley hit him hard on the arm, quite a bit harder than he intended. He was still pretty shaky and not entirely in control of his limbs. “Ow! Bit harsh, boss.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Crowley mumbled. “How am I ever going to do this?” he groaned.

“Just go for it! I’ve seen the way he looks at you; you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“I hope so,” Crowley sighed as the reach the shed. “I can’t even think about this now. Just gonna chop stuff.”

“Sounds good, boss,” Eric chuckled, unlocking the shed and holding the door open for Crowley.

The next day, Crowley didn’t ask Aziraphale out to dinner either. Crowley’s reasons (not _excuses_ , these were entirely valid _reasons_ ) started to form in the morning, when everyone at the reserve was cursed with an all-staff email from Gabriel.

“I have bad news, Crowley,” Aziraphale began as he joined Crowley for lunch.

“Let me guess, this is about Gabriel’s email and his impending _tour_?”

“I’m afraid so. He’s starting with us. He’ll be here on Monday,” Aziraphale said dejectedly.

“ _Monday_?” Crowley groaned, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. “Couldn’t he have at least made it Friday so I could go home and get blindingly drunk afterwards?”

“I’m fairly sure he’s doing it on purpose. He’s asked to see my marketing strategy.”

“What marketing strategy?”

“The marketing strategy he previously asked all of the new Marketing Managers to submit for approval by _March_. But ‘ _you must have almost finished that by now, mustn’t you, Aziraphale?’_ ” he scowled.

“You’re kidding?”

“Unfortunately, no. He wants to see it on Monday and I’ve barely started it,” Aziraphale said sadly, holding his arms protectively across his body.

“Just tell him to fuck off and he’ll have it in March like he said before,” Crowley growled through gritted teeth, his blood boiling and his mind full of horrible things he’d like to see happen to Gabriel.

“I can’t, Crowley. I can’t give him any more reason to disapprove of me. I have to do as he asks. It’ll be fine. I’ll have to take it home with me though, probably spend the whole weekend on it, but at least it’ll be done then,” Aziraphale said, attempting a brighter tone. Crowley could easily see through it; Aziraphale always wore his heart on his sleeve. Aziraphale drew in a deep breath, then his expression relaxed, transforming into something more genuine, complete with that cheeky, mischievous smile that so often graced his lips when he spoke to Crowley.

“ _What_?” Crowley asked, finding himself smiling already.

“I’m sorry?” Aziraphale feigned ignorance. “Oh, yes, I was wondering whether you’d help me with something for Gabriel’s visit.”

“I’m listening...” Crowley drawled, licking his lips.

“Well, when we were talking just now he mentioned that he’d like to film one of those videos of his while he’s here. He’s asked me to determine a good location for him to film it. Some pretentious, corporate nonsense, I’m not quite sure what, but anyway, he asked me to choose the most stunning location on the reserve to provide the backdrop. I was thinking... that spot where we sat on the island beside the lake was wonderful.”

“It really is beautiful,” Crowley agreed.

“Exactly. So will you take us over to the island?”

“Sure. You’re filming him then?”

“That is my honour, yes,” Aziraphale grumbled.

“No problem, I’ll take you over to the island. I can ask Eric to take Gabriel in the other canoe, I’m still punishing him for... something.”

“Actually Crowley, I was rather hoping that _you_ would take Gabriel, although you would have to be very careful. It would be terrible if something went wrong, you know, if something happened to him, like what happened to me in May, oh my goodness could you imagine?” Aziraphale chuckled, and then shot Crowley those puppy dog eyes.

“Aziraphale, no!”

“Oh _please_ , Crowley! It would be so funny! Just picture it...” Aziraphale tempted.

“I can’t!”

“Please? Revenge for making me write this marketing strategy over the weekend?” Aziraphale tried, deploying The Pout and widening his eyes even more. What is it they say? _Resistance is futile?_ Crowley leaned his elbows on the table and cradled his hands, resting his forehead on them as he huffed out a breath.

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

“Oh, really?” Aziraphale beamed at him.

“Yeah. No one messes with my angel.”

As Crowley had hoped when he’d decided to be brave and actually say that, Aziraphale blushed in response, which made the risk of incurring Gabriel’s wrath seem worth it. Besides, it wasn’t just Aziraphale who deserved vengeance. Crowley had been intending to ask Aziraphale out to dinner, _honestly_ , he _really_ had, and now he couldn’t, knowing Aziraphale would be stressed and working solidly over the weekend. Now Crowley would have to wait for _fucking_ _Gabriel_ to leave before he could do anything.

**[Aziraphale] Thank you so much Crowley!!!! <3<3<3**

**[Crowley] What’s up?**

**[Aziraphale] Oh don’t!!! THANK YOU!!!**

**[Crowley] I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about.**

**[Aziraphale] Yes you do, stop it!!**

**[Crowley] ?**

**[Aziraphale] Wait, really?**

**[Crowley] No, not really. You’re welcome angel. How’s the strategy going?**

Crowley grinned and bit down hard on his bottom lip. Since Crowley had every intention of asking Aziraphale out on Monday after Gabriel left, there really was no reason not to more openly demonstrate his affection, was there?

Knowing Aziraphale would be stuck at home working on his marketing strategy all weekend, Crowley had visited the local bakery and arranged for them to deliver a box full of pastries to Aziraphale’s cottage. Apparently they had arrived, and Crowley experienced a rush of pure joy knowing he’d done something to make Aziraphale happy.

**[Aziraphale] I’m making progress, thank you. Going to have a tea break now though!**

**[Crowley] I didn’t mean to distract you.**

**[Aziraphale] Not at all! It’s brain food!**

**[Crowley] Enjoy x**

Perhaps this was progress, because Crowley’s heart only raced for approximately eight minutes after sending a message that actually had a kiss at the end of it.

Gabriel was arrogantly prattling on about something or other, but Crowley really wasn’t paying attention. His moment was coming, his starring role in the mission to humiliate Gabriel and force him to wear the hideous emergency clothes. _The things one does for the love of an angel._

Eric and Aziraphale had disembarked from their canoe already, and Crowley watched Eric drag the boat up onto the ground, not daring to make eye contact with his co-conspirator. Sandalphon loomed on the path like a giant expressionless potato, standing next to Bee, who had arranged to meet with Gabriel straight after this, prompting much speculation by Crowley and Aziraphale about what might happen during their meeting. For someone so full of his own self-importance it wasn't entirely clear what Sandalphon actually _did_ , besides scuttling around pointlessly after Gabriel. Crowely wondered whether Sandalphon might suddenly leap into action at the sight of Gabriel floating in the lake, fancy suit and scarf ( _which he doesn’t even have wrapped around his neck, honestly, what is the point of that?)_ soaked, and, if Crowley did this correctly, possibly even covered in mud.

That mental image was endlessly entertaining, but the closer the canoe got to the jetty, the more Crowley felt his grip on the paddle slip as his hands became sweaty, his heart beating a fierce rhythm in his chest. He permitted himself a quick glance at Aziraphale, who was standing even more upright and rigid than usual, gloved hands squeezed together in front of his stomach, smiling with anticipation, eyes sparkling with mischief.

Crowley started moving the paddle through the water with less force, causing the canoe to slow considerably as Gabriel was contributing very little to their progress. Crowley let it play out in his mind, his plan to position his left foot towards the edge of the canoe as he reached out for the jetty, grabbing onto one of the struts, instructing Gabriel to disembark, then letting his hand slip, applying a little pressure with his foot, causing the boat to tip...

Crowley imagined himself helping Gabriel out of the water (let’s face it, there was no evidence to suggest Sandalphon _would_ actually decide to make himself useful), but after that, all Crowley could picture was a very angry, dripping wet Gabriel storming over to Aziraphale...

The moment arrived and Crowley pulled the canoe up to the jetty, reached out for one of the struts and held on tight. He couldn’t risk it. Gabriel climbed out, disappointingly elegantly, and with a wide grin on his face headed back to the path, slapping Sandalphon on the shoulder.

“You’re welcome,” Crowley grumbled after him, clambering up onto the jetty and pulling the canoe out of the water. He closed his eyes for a moment, steeling himself, and then turned to Aziraphale. His heart felt like it had been shoved through the shredder in the office (which was always clogged up and getting jammed, the resulting shredding a torn, crumpled, chaotic mess, which was exactly how Crowley’s heart felt) as he took in Aziraphale’s disappointed expression. Crowley rushed over to join him.

“Aziraphale, I’m sorry, I’m _so_ sorry, I just couldn’t do it! I was worried he’d blame you for choosing an ‘unsafe filming location’ or something. I’m really sorry, I didn’t want to let you down but he already treats you like shit and I didn’t want to give him any more ammunition. I’m really sorry, angel,” Crowley rambled.

Aziraphale stood motionless, lips parted, his disappointed expression melting away, morphing into something much more fond, the kind of expression that always had a way of lighting a fire in Crowley’s chest. Not a raging, roaring fire, more a gentling crackling fire that invited you to curl up beside it on a soft rug with a blanket draped over your shoulders.

“Oh, Crowley... that’s all right. That’s very sweet of you to think of that. You’re probably right.”

“Thanks angel. I’m still sorry, though.”

Crowley could hear Gabriel calling to Sandalphon in the distance, and walked a little way down the path to see what he was doing. Aziraphale followed.

“Wow, look at _that_ view! I bet we could get some great shots from up there!” Gabriel beamed, pointing up the bank. Crowley’s eyes widened as he watched Gabriel stepping closer... and closer...

“Oh my God, Aziraphale!” Crowley squeaked, clutching onto Aziraphale’s arm. “Look!”

“What?”

Crowley’s mouth hung open as Gabriel started climbing the bank, each step taking him higher and closer to that spectacular view, the one Crowley called The Temptation, that lured everyone up the bank to appreciate it.

“That’s the bank Aziraphale! _The_ bank! Oh my God...” Crowley’s eyes flicked between Gabriel and Bee, and he prayed Bee wouldn’t say anything, wouldn’t offer any warning, and when indeed they didn’t, Crowley wondered whether the speculation of any weird affection between the two of them was erroneous. Perhaps they really _had_ just thrown the cue ball at Gabriel’s head and kept it as a souvenir of one of the greatest moments of their life. Crowley squeezed Aziraphale’s arm even tighter.

“Crowley, that hurts,” Aziraphale grumbled.

“Shit, sorry!” Crowley apologised, releasing Aziraphale’s arm. He wrapped his arm around Aziraphale’s back instead, resting his hand just above his hip and drawing him closer until their sides were pressed tightly together. “Just watch,” Crowley whispered into Aziraphale’s ear, squeezing his waist. Aziraphale drew in a shuddering breath that Crowley couldn’t help but notice, despite his attention being squarely focused on Gabriel.

“Crowley...” Aziraphale breathed, shifting slightly against him. Crowley just squeezed him even tighter, unable to control the anticipation he was experiencing as Gabriel took the final step up to the top of the bank and the inevitable happened. Exacerbated by the complete lack of grip on his ridiculous posh shoes, Gabriel slipped, fell onto his arse, and slid halfway down the wet, muddy bank. Aziraphale gasped and Crowley trembled with glee, shaking Aziraphale excitedly in the process.

Crowley’s earlier thoughts about Sandalphon turned out to be delightfully unjustified, as the man scurried up the bank to meet Gabriel, who reached up to take his hand, slipping again when he attempted to stand and pulling Sandalphon down into the mud with him. Crowley and Aziraphale turned to look at each other and both spluttered with laughter before catching themselves and momentarily managing to suppress it. Crowley couldn’t risk Gabriel seeing Aziraphale laugh at his misfortune, so he grabbed hold of Aziraphale and tugged him along until they were concealed behind a tree, and pressed Aziraphale up against it.

Now convinced it was safe to do so, Crowley burst out laughing uncontrollably, his palms and forehead pressed against Aziraphale’s chest as gasped for breath, unable to get the sight of Gabriel falling on his arse, on a _muddy bank_ no less, out of his head. The muscles in his cheeks and his diaphragm were aching and he was struggling for breath, but it was completely glorious, and Crowley did his best to permanently burn an impression of what he had just witnessed into his brain so that he could recall it in splendorous detail whenever he wished in the future.

Crowley could only imagine the absolute _delight_ Aziraphale must be experiencing right now, and pressed harder against his chest as he struggled to lift his head to see for himself. But when Crowley did look up and met Aziraphale’s eyes, he found that he wasn’t laughing. He wasn’t even _smiling_ , and Crowley’s own mirth was abruptly extinguished.

“Aziraphale, what’s ---?” Crowley began, trying to read Aziraphale’s expression. His heart leapt up into his throat as he took in their relative positions, Crowley’s hands still firmly holding Aziraphale against the tree, their bodies pressed together from the waist down, Aziraphale drawing in rapid, ragged breaths, and looking at Crowley with something like a _version_ of the puppy eyes, but this time heated and desperate.

Crowley’s breath hitched and he swallowed thickly, watching the gentle bob of Aziraphale’s throat as he did the same. Crowley reduced the pressure he was applying with his hands, gently skating his fingers over Aziraphale’s chest instead and moving upwards to tenderly cup the sides of his face, gazing at him reverently. Aziraphale licked his lips and then leaned forward, closing the distance between them, pressing a tentative kiss to Crowley’s lips, his own hands tracing lightly over Crowley’s back. When Aziraphale’s fingertips glided over Crowley’s nape and found their way into his hair, Crowley moaned against his mouth and pulled him closer, deepening their kiss.

“Bee to Crowley, Bee to Crowley,” came the crackle from Crowley’s radio, clasped onto the waistband of his jeans. He turned his head slightly, breaking the kiss, and pressed his forehead against Aziraphale’s as he grimaced and struggled to catch his breath. “Bee to Crowley, where are you?”

Crowley gritted his teeth and reluctantly moved one hand towards the source of the sound.

“Bee, this is Eric,” Eric’s voice emerged from the radio.

“Eric, is Crowley with you?”

“Yeah, he’s just got his hands full at the moment, can I help?”

Crowley’s head whipped around and he saw Eric, standing beside the lake with a massive grin on his face. He gave Crowley a thumbs-up. Crowley groaned and turned back to Aziraphale, whose eyes were shifting nervously back and fore between Crowley and Eric.

_You’re perfect, you’re wonderful, you’re adorable, please don’t be nervous. Please, angel._

“Yeah, can you bring the emergency clothes to the bank please?” Bee’s voice materialised again over the radio. “ _Both_ pairs,” they added, and Crowley snorted.

“No problem, I’ll be right there!” Eric replied brightly, and the crackle of the radio fell silent.

“Crowley, I, erm...” Aziraphale began, adjusting his bow tie and straightening his coat.

“Shhh,” Crowley breathed, pressing Aziraphale back gently against the tree this time, their lips finding each other once more. Aziraphale leaned his head back against the tree and whimpered softly, bringing his hands up to rest on Crowley’s shoulders. Their kisses were soft and delicate, but Aziraphale felt tense, his hesitancy palpable. Crowley stepped back, his stomach knotting. “Aziraphale, do you not want to do this?”

“No, Crowley! Goodness, _no_ , I want to kiss you more than anything!” Aziraphale protested in a hushed voice, shooting an uncertain glance towards Eric as he passed them carrying the bag of emergency clothes. Eric threw Crowley a wink in the process.

“Are you worried because Eric saw us?” Crowley inferred, and Aziraphale nodded. Crowley softened and brushed the back of his fingers affectionately across Aziraphale’s cheek. “ _Trust me_ , you have nothing to worry about with Eric. I promise. Ok?”

Aziraphale nodded again, but was still fretfully adjusting his clothes. “I do trust you, Crowley. Of course I do. Still, it’s hardly appropriate behaviour for the workplace, is it?” Aziraphale chuckled nervously.

“But intentionally tipping the canoe to deposit the organisation’s Chief Operating Officer into the lake is perfectly acceptable is it?” Crowley joked, trying to lighten the mood, trembling slightly as his mind raced through possible interpretations of what Aziraphale was saying, sticking on the thought that Crowley had feared all along, that it didn’t matter if they were attracted to each other, they were _colleagues_ , and maybe Aziraphale didn’t actually _want_ to do anything about his feelings. That said, Aziraphale _had_ been the one to initiate the whole kissing business.

“I’m shocked that you would even imply such a thing,” Aziraphale replied, his own tone light, but Crowley’s heart felt like it was sinking, and he couldn’t find the strength to continue to feign joviality.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable,” Crowley murmured quietly, bowing his head, and Aziraphale immediately grabbed hold of him.

“Crowley, no! You didn’t make me feel uncomfortable at all! You made me feel...” Aziraphale’s eyes travelled over Crowley as he searched for the right words, although apparently he never actually found them. Aziraphale was looking at him with intense hunger, and Crowley squirmed under his scrutiny. “I care about you more than _anything_ , Crowley, and I want you, I want you _so much_ , and I really wish we could be alone right now.”

“Yeah me too,” Crowley croaked, recovering from stopping breathing for a few seconds when Aziraphale had said ‘ _I want you’_. Crowley decided to return to the original plan, after all, it really was about time. “Will you let me take you out for dinner tonight? Maybe you can come back to mine after, if you want to, so we can be alone?”

“I would love that,” Aziraphale beamed, taking one of Crowley’s hands between his own. Even with the fabric of their gloves between them, the simple touch filled Crowley’s heart with warmth. Crowley grinned, and Aziraphale pulled him into a crushing hug. “Thank you, Crowley. I’m sorry I’m so...”

“Shhh, Aziraphale. Don’t ever apologise for being who you are. You’re absolutely perfect,” Crowley murmured near his ear, pressing a tender kiss to his cheek.

“Crowley?”

“Yes, angel?”

“Did you see when Gabriel fell on his arse?” Aziraphale giggled.

“I sure did,” Crowley grinned, and he knew that once it was over, this day would turn out to have been the happiest day of his life. So far, anyway. Crowley had no doubts that there were many even happier days with Aziraphale to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Death voice: FINALLY!
> 
> I'm not sure when the epilogue will be ready but I've planned it out and it is FLUFF CITY and will hopefully make up for how long it took for these boys to actually sort themselves out! ;-)
> 
> Thanks again for reading! <3


	14. Many happy days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff happens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just me indulging myself and writing loads of fluff, enjoy! <3 Switched to Aziraphale's POV to end!

Gabriel and Sandalphon falling flat on their arses into a pile of sticky, wet, smelly mud seemed to be some kind of good omen. Aziraphale had experienced such pure satisfaction and delight at the sight of it, and the day had only got better from there. It also turned out to be just the beginning of a whole series of wonderful days to come.

After work on the day of Gabriel’s visit, Crowley took Aziraphale out for dinner. He seemed a little nervous, which made Aziraphale feel a bit better about how nervous _he_ was feeling. Not that Aziraphale had anything to be nervous about, Crowley was absolutely lovely as always. They enjoyed a quiet dinner together in an Italian restaurant, and then went back to Crowley’s cottage. Aziraphale took a seat on the sofa, watching Crowley build a fire in the hearth. Crowley squatted down in front of the fire, rolled up his sleeves revealing his muscular forearms, tossed his hair back out of the way, and left Aziraphale wondering if he wasn’t, at least a little bit, doing it on purpose. With Crowley’s back to him, Aziraphale just licked his lips and enjoyed the view. His heart was beating uncomfortably fast, and he was disconcertingly aware of his own breathing.

Once the fire was burning, Crowley joined Aziraphale on the sofa and passed him a blanket. Aziraphale draped it over his knees and spent a little while adjusting it to give his hands something to do.

“So... we’re finally alone,” Crowley observed.

“I had a wonderful time tonight, thank you, Crowley.”

“It was absolutely my pleasure. Thank _you_.” 

Aziraphale felt his cheeks warming from more than just the fire and turned his attention back to the blanket on his lap, picking at a loose thread.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley murmured, and Aziraphale turned to look at him again. “I’d _really_ like to kiss you now. Would that be all right?”

The breath rushed out of Aziraphale’s lungs and he nodded, not sure he’d manage if he actually tried to speak. Crowley let out a long breath too, almost like he might be relieved that Aziraphale had said yes. _How could he possibly have any doubt?_ Aziraphale wondered, shuffling so that he was facing towards Crowley, and rested his palm lightly on one of Crowley’s slender thighs. Crowley smiled and licked his lips, leaning in slowly, one hand reaching up, fingernails scratching lightly over Aziraphale’s nape. Aziraphale shivered and leaned forward, and they met in the middle, lips tentatively brushing over each other. Tingles spread throughout Aziraphale’s body and he sighed against Crowley’s mouth before parting his lips, the hand resting on Crowley’s thigh involuntarily squeezing it. Crowley moaned softly and brought his other hand to cover Aziraphale’s, holding it down against his thigh as he deepened their kiss.

“Wow... angel...” Crowley gasped when they parted, running a hand reverently through Aziraphale’s hair. “You’re amazing.”

“So are you, you feel incredible,” Aziraphale breathed, claiming Crowley’s lips in another tender, languorous kiss. Aziraphale didn’t want things to progress much further, not wanting to go too fast with Crowley. Besides, he would quite happily kiss Crowley for hours on end, and was reassured by the sense that Crowley was feeling the same way. Crowley’s hands travelled lazily over Aziraphale’s arms, shoulders, back and chest, like he was mapping out his body and committing every detail to memory.

_Oh good Lord those hands_... 

Aziraphale pulled away from Crowley and captured one of his hands between his own, pulling it into his lap.

“I love your hands,” Aziraphale murmured. Crowley shuffled on the sofa, pressing their legs closer together.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes. I like watching you do things with them.” Aziraphale explored every inch of Crowley’s hand with the fingertips of both of his own.

Crowley chuckled. “Like what?”

“When I see you working out in the reserve, and when you’re driving, and when you’re using your computer in the office...” Crowley raised his eyebrows with amusement. “That’s not too strange, is it?”

“Nah, I’m very flattered,” Crowley grinned. “I do the same with you. Your hands are _perfect_.” Crowley grabbed hold of one of Aziraphale’s hands, bringing it to his mouth, and locked eyes with him as he cradled it against his lips, lightly kissing his wrist. Aziraphale parted his lips and gazed at Crowley, transfixed, as he gently turned it over to trail kisses along his thumb and each finger, before dragging his tongue along the back of his hand. Aziraphale moaned and Crowley tightened his grasp.

“Good, angel?” Crowley murmured against his palm, which was now being treated to further kisses. Crowley seemed to have no intention of leaving any part of Aziraphale’s hand unkissed.

“Yes... I love that...” Aziraphale gasped, the sight of Crowley’s tongue darting out of his mouth taking his breath away, each kiss setting fire to his skin. Crowley moved Aziraphale’s hand slightly, encouraging him to cup his cheek, and Crowley leaned into it, still cradling Aziraphale’s hand with his own. “Please take this off,” Aziraphale asked coyly, using his free hand to tug at the hem of Crowley’s jumper. Crowley released him and shuffled back, tugging the jumper hurriedly over his head, messing up his hair in the process. Aziraphale smiled and smoothed it back down for him, running his fingers through it a few more times than necessary. Aziraphale had on many occasions found himself rather distracted by Crowley’s gorgeous hair, and had been pleased when he’d decided to wear it down tonight.

“Now what?” Crowley teased.

“My turn,” Aziraphale winked, bringing Crowley’s hand up to his mouth, pressing a gentle to kiss to his palm, his wrist and then continuing up towards his elbow. “I love your _arms_ too,” Aziraphale mumbled as he playfully kissed, licked, sucked and nibbled his way up the inside of Crowley’s forearm, gently squeezing his bicep, relaxing his grip and stroking his fingers over it appreciatively when Crowley tensed the muscle. He glanced upwards and felt a thrill shoot down his spine when he locked eyes with Crowley, who looked completely entranced, his breathing rapid and shallow.

“Fuck... angel...”

“Yes, Crowley?” Aziraphale asked innocently, before grazing his teeth gently along Crowley’s skin and following with his tongue. Crowley groaned and wrapped his hand in Aziraphale’s hair, tugging gently to pull him away.

“I want to hold you,” Crowley pleaded.

Aziraphale smiled sweetly and shuffled away, allowing Crowley to swing his legs up onto the sofa and settle back so he was lying down with his head propped up on the armrest. Crowley scooted closer to the back cushions to give Aziraphale room to lie down in front of him, which he did eagerly, pulling the blanket over the two of them.

“Yeah, you’d better keep me warm. Making me take my jumper off, s’not fair,” Crowley grumbled, his lips pressed to the back of Aziraphale’s neck and hands grasping at the fabric of his thick woolly jumper with frustration. Aziraphale chuckled and shuffled back, aligning his body with Crowley’s.

“You’re very welcome to put your hands under it,” Aziraphale suggested, grinning to himself when he felt Crowley’s sharp intake of breath against his neck. Aziraphale bit down on his bottom lip, focusing on the movement of Crowley’s hands under the blanket, instinctively pressing back against him as Crowley slipped his hands not just under the jumper, but under Aziraphale’s shirt as well.

“Now s’fair,” Crowley mumbled, kissing Aziraphale’s neck and letting his hands explore his chest and stomach. Aziraphale could feel Crowley smiling against his nape and sighed contentedly, watching the flames flicker in the hearth. They spent the rest of the evening like that, cuddled up on the sofa in front of a roaring fire, fulfilling a fantasy that neither realised the other had regularly indulged in as well.

Aziraphale had found Crowley attractive from the first moment he’d seen him. He hadn’t been quite able to believe his luck when he stepped off the train that day, and as soon as he’d realised that Crowley’s initial abrasiveness was only rooted in a deep passion for the reserve and his desire to protect it, that attraction had only continued to grow. Aziraphale had felt so completely privileged to have spent those days listening to Crowley share his knowledge and appreciation of the reserve, and had found himself with butterflies in his stomach in anticipation of every email and telephone call they had shared after he returned to head office. When Eric had spoken to him about Crowley’s planned visit for the Reserve Managers’ meeting, Aziraphale had eagerly offered to let him stay at his apartment, and had gone shopping the next day, spending far too long deliberating over what colour towel Crowley would prefer, finally choosing the red one, but did manage to settle quite quickly on an embroidered duvet cover with leaves on it that reminded him of his visit to the reserve.

When the opportunity had come up to take a position at one of the reserves, Aziraphale had forced himself to think about it rather than just leaping into it. He always gave careful consideration to everything, and it wouldn’t do to stop now. He hadn’t been sure whether or not Crowley returned his feelings. There had been certain moments when Crowley had let his guard down that had prompted Aziraphale to wonder, but in the end, his decision hadn’t been about that. It had been based on being able to work at a place he knew he loved, where he knew he would have a very dear friend.

Aziraphale had retained vague recollections of their Christmas party. He remembered Crowley praising his drawing, and the silky softness of Crowley’s shirt, and the feel of his arms wrapped around him. Aziraphale had spent almost every day after wondering whether or not he should talk to Crowley about his feelings, but found himself unsure of whether, even if Crowley did feel the same way, he would actually want to do anything about it, especially with them being colleagues. Aziraphale had opted to be gradually more open with his affection for Crowley, hoping, if he did feel the same, it might help him to see that Aziraphale wanted that too.

When they actually discussed this, a few weeks after their first date, Aziraphale and Crowley both admitted that the way they had approached the situation hadn’t been particularly... efficient.

Aziraphale was successful in finding a corporate sponsor for his project to enable more children to be able to visit the reserve. The reserve had to charge admission to be able to afford to operate, but it had always bothered Aziraphale that this prevented some of those children with the least access to nature from being able to visit. They _did_ have to put up a board with the company logo in the new education zone when it was finished, but Crowley had accepted that it was worth it, with the company paying for 500 school children, whose families wouldn’t have otherwise been able to afford it, to come to the reserve in the first year alone.

Sometimes Aziraphale sneaked out of the office when a school visit was happening under the pretence of talking to the teachers about the project. He always said he needed quotes for promotional material, but simply wanted an excuse to watch Crowley, bustling around excitedly talking to the children, grinning every time one of them discovered something new that they had never seen before.

The reallocation of funds that had happened as a result of Gabriel’s revisioning strategy had put more money into the reserves, and so at the end of Eric’s internship, Crowley asked for him to be made a permanent Reserve Management Assistant, and the request was granted. With all of the new developments happening, Aziraphale was thrilled to know that Crowley would have the help he needed to keep everything properly maintained and monitored.

The concerns Aziraphale had had about how their colleagues might react to his and Crowley’s relationship turned out to be unfounded. Crowley had said, “I doubt they could give less of a shit,” and this had turned out to be a rather accurate assessment. Dagon had actually said she thought they were already together and that was why Aziraphale had taken the job there. Aziraphale still insisted they act professionally at work though, although this professionalism only extended so far. There were no stationery cupboards they could sneak into for discrete rendezvous, but there _was_ the tool shed, and they both tempted each other into pulling pranks on other members of the team. They left Bee alone though, having decided based on their response to Gabriel climbing up the bank that they had indeed thrown the cue ball at him, which rendered them worthy of at least _some_ respect.

All in all, everything was going extremely well, and Aziraphale had not only never been happier, but had never even imagined it _possible_ to be this happy.

When Aziraphale’s birthday came around, he wiggled with excitement as Crowley came into the living room carrying a gift bag full of presents.

“Open this one first,” Crowley insisted with a mischievous grin, setting down the bag next to Aziraphale and withdrawing a small box. Aziraphale took it from him and read the label, ‘ _one of a kind like you x_ ’, and from the size and shape of the box, Aziraphale had a feeling he knew what it would be even before he opened it. He laughed when he pulled the lid off and pushed the shredded tissue paper inside the box to one side.

“A cue ball,” Aziraphale observed with a grin. “Oh, Crowley, you didn’t steal it did you?”

“Yep.”

“ _What_?” Aziraphale challenged.

“Well, you seemed to think it was a romantic gesture when we were talking about it before,” Crowley mumbled with a pout.

“But they’ll be looking for it everywhere! Oh my goodness, Crowley, this is incredibly sweet but I really don’t think...” Aziraphale began to protest, but Crowley was laughing.

“S’ok, angel. I stole that one and put a new one in its place, no one ever has to know.”

“Oh, Crowley...”

“But that’s still the stolen one! I _stole_ it for you! M’naughty I am.”

“Well, I know _that_ ,” Aziraphale drawled, cupping Crowley’s cheek and giving him a sweet kiss. Crowley chased his lips when he pulled back, but Aziraphale had other presents to open first before he gave into temptation and unwrapped Crowley.

In October, the Reserve Managers’ meeting took place at the reserve in Yorkshire, and Crowley booked the days off on either side of the meeting, and Aziraphale took the whole week off with him, so they could visit the reserve together and explore it in their own time.

Aziraphale had taken along the dragonfly book Crowley had bought him, just in case, even though Crowley explained they would be unlikely to see any, aside from possibly a few common darters, this late in the year up in the north of the country. Crowley had been right, of course, but promised, once the spring came around, to take Aziraphale on some weekend trips to different parts of the country so that he could try to see as many of the species as possible from the book.

In December, a year after Aziraphale had started working on the reserve, the lease on his cottage came to an end, and he and Crowley decided to move in together. Crowley’s own cottage was big enough for the two of them, even taking into account all of Aziraphale’s books.

It was while Aziraphale was moving in that Crowley stumbled across his box of magic tricks.

“Something you want to tell me, angel?” Crowley asked, withdrawing a piece of soft white rope from the box and wrapping it around his wrist with a suggestive wink.

“I’d rather _show_ you,” Aziraphale teased, tugging on the other end of the rope to bring Crowley close enough to kiss him.

That evening, he performed a whole series of magic tricks for Crowley, who acted as willing volunteer, dutifully selecting a card and confirming Aziraphale had correctly found it (Aziraphale could tell he was lying and found it extremely endearing), pretending he didn’t see Aziraphale dispose of his coin using a poorly executed French drop, and allowing Aziraphale to stare into his eyes for a few minutes in an attempt to read his mind. Aziraphale indeed correctly deduced _exactly_ what Crowley was thinking, and they rapidly ended up in bed ( _without_ the rope, it should be said), the jokes starting with comments like “I’ll make your clothes disappear”, progressing to etymological discussions about prestidigitation (“you have nimble fingers indeed”), and ending with some rather unsubtle innuendo involving Crowley’s own performance of a vanishing act. Even if Crowley’s diabolical plan all along had been to distract Aziraphale from performing any more magic tricks, Aziraphale _really_ didn’t mind, given the result.

On Aziraphale’s next birthday, he woke up early and started squirming around excitedly in bed, hoping to ‘accidentally’ wake Crowley. When that tactic failed, he opted for a more direct approach, rolling over and slotting his knee between Crowley’s legs and shuffling up to start softly kissing his way up Crowley’s neck.

“Mmmm morning angel,” Crowley mumbled without opening his eyes. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you, Crowley,” Aziraphale giggled, propping himself up on his elbow and resting a hand tenderly on Crowley’s chest as he leaned down to kiss him.

“Let me guess, you want your present?” Crowley smirked. Aziraphale gazed down at him with sweet, pleading eyes, and Crowley chuckled, playfully batting him away, hopefully to retrieve said present. Crowley rolled to the edge of the bed and leaned over, reaching down to the floor. He rolled back a moment later with a gift bag and deposited it on his stomach. “Here you go.”

Aziraphale reached into the bag and started to withdraw a length of rope. He narrowed his eyes and looked at Crowley quizzically, peering into the bag and discovering that the rope was considerably longer than he’d first imagined.

“What’s this for?” Aziraphale asked hesitantly. Crowley grinned.

“The rope’s just part of your present,” Crowley responded mysteriously.

“What’s the rest of my present?”

“It’s outside so it’ll have to wait until you get up, I’m afraid.”

“Ah. For a second I thought you wanted to tie me up,” Aziraphale teased.

“You sound disappointed,” Crowley drawled, grabbing hold of the gift bag and throwing it on the floor before pinning Aziraphale to the bed and straddling him.

“Not at all. I like touching you too much.” Aziraphale reached up and skirted his fingertips along the hem of Crowley’s nightshirt, sliding them underneath and running them up his back.

“And _I_ like making you wriggle around too much,” Crowley grinned, running his hands down Aziraphale’s sides, eliciting an involuntary squirm. “Would you like me to carry on or are you too curious about your present?”

“Perhaps we could continue this later?” Aziraphale suggested. Crowley laughed and elegantly jumped off Aziraphale and onto the floor on his side of the bed. Aziraphale had second thoughts about his decision. He would never get over how graceful and gorgeous Crowley was.

“Oh, absolutely. Come on, then, your present awaits,” Crowley bowed, reaching a hand out to pull Aziraphale out of bed. Aziraphale put on his dressing gown and slippers and stepped into the garden with Crowley, eyes darting all around, searching for anything unusual. Crowley led him onto the lawn and then started laying the rope down on the ground, creating a large oval shape with wobbly edges. Crowley held his hands out to his sides and nodded down to the shape.

“Is this my present?”

“Yep. Sort of.”

“A circle of rope on the grass? How did you know that that’s what I’ve always wanted?” Aziraphale joked. Crowley scowled at him playfully.

“It’s the outline of a pond; I’m going to dig you a pond! So you can sit out and read and watch dragonflies without even having to leave the garden.”

“Oh my goodness! Crowley!” Aziraphale jumped across the rope and ran over to Crowley, throwing himself at him and squeezing him tightly. “Thank you so much!”

“My pleasure, angel. Sorry you won’t get to enjoy it straight away, but I’ve managed to persuade Eric to help me so it shouldn’t take too long.”

It was about a month before the pond was finished. Crowley designed it following a guide on how to attract dragonflies, and he showed Aziraphale the different shelves he was creating and explained why different parts would need to be different depths. He also talked through the different plants he’d ordered, and the species of dragonfly they would attract, and how it was important to cater for every stage of the dragonflies’ life cycle.

Crowley created a small pond dipping platform in case they wanted to have a closer look at any creatures that moved in, and sited a bench beside it so the two of them could spend sunny days sitting out watching the wildlife and the evidence of the gradual transition of the seasons. By mid-summer, several species of dragonfly had already visited. Each time he spotted a new one, if Crowley wasn’t sat beside him, Aziraphale would rush into the house to find him and excitedly drag him outside, while squealing, “I can’t believe it!”

To which, Crowley would remind him, “I _did_ design it specifically to attract them,” and Aziraphale would scrunch up his nose and gleefully add the new species to the list he was collating.

As much fun as it was watching dragonflies in their garden, Aziraphale was still keen to see as many different species as possible, and it gave the two of them an excuse for a few romantic weekends away.

In July, they visited Norfolk and took a boat trip out on the fens, Aziraphale wiggling excitedly when he was the first person on the boat to spot a Norfolk hawker perched in the reeds.

“Nice one, angel,” Crowley whispered in his ear, nudging him with his elbow. Aziraphale felt the colour rise in his cheeks and beamed back at him, wrapping his arm around Crowley’s waist and cuddling up to him as best he could with them both wearing lifejackets. They also spotted a swallowtail butterfly from the boat, and later, Crowley got very excited when he saw a purple hairstreak butterfly as they walked through the woods. Aziraphale couldn’t see it, but took his word for it, and thoroughly enjoyed seeing his fiancé so excited.

Oh yes, perhaps the fiancé detail should be mentioned. Aziraphale had proposed to Crowley on his birthday, and had been very proud of the clever way he had come up with to do it. Aziraphale had given Crowley a box containing his present, but when Crowley had opened it, it had been empty. Crowley’s eyebrows had knitted together and he’d shown the empty box to Aziraphale, who had played along, looked inside the box with an expression of concern, and refitted the lid as quickly as he could (his hands were trembling and he didn’t want Crowley to see), handing it back to Crowley to try again. When Crowley removed the lid this time, there was a ring inside.

_That’ll show everyone who thinks I’m rubbish at magic._

The following summer, many very happy things happened. These included Aziraphale adding the tenth species to visit the pond to his list of dragonflies, the first young dragonflies actually _emerging_ from the pond to take their first flight, Aziraphale beginning a collection of exuviae (the cases left behind by the emerging dragonflies), and the small matter of Aziraphale and Crowley getting married at the local botanical garden, surrounded by beautiful plants. It took the new top position as the happiest day of either of their lives, but they both knew, once again, that it was one of very many happy days still to come in their lives together.

Two months after their wedding, Aziraphale is sitting on the bench beside the pond Crowley created for him. Crowley is with him, lying across the bench, knees bent over the armrest and feet dangling down, head resting in Aziraphale’s lap. Aziraphale had been reading a book, but has carefully put it down, realising that his husband has fallen asleep.

Aziraphale tenderly runs his fingertips through Crowley’s hair and looks out at the pond. There is a pair of common darters laying eggs in tandem, and a frog poking its head out of the water to breathe. An unattached male common darter is flying around trying to get the attention of the female. Finally giving up, it flies close to Aziraphale and perches on his hand, where it is now resting in Crowley’s hair. Aziraphale gazes at it for a while, watching as the dragonfly rolls its eyes around to check for signs of danger and twitches its abdomen up and down.

Deciding the dragonfly is pretty settled and having enjoyed watching it for quite a while, Aziraphale chances reaching his other hand into his pocket to withdraw his phone, and manages to take a photo of the dragonfly resting on his hand, which itself is resting on Crowley’s head. Aziraphale grins at the image, deciding already that it will be the photo on the card he gives to Crowley for his forthcoming birthday, and looking forward to seeing the look on his face when he realises he slept through this magical moment.

Aziraphale knows Crowley won’t be too disappointed though. After all, there are plenty more magical moments to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I came, I saw, I repeatedly threw fluff at you.
> 
> Hope the softness at the end was worth the slooooooooooow burn! ;-) Thank you all again for reading and for your comments and kudos, I appreciate every single one! <3


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